Blood and Justice
by GoldenGail3
Summary: In which justice is served to King Rhaegar, the first of his name, and Queen Lyanna Stark, his wife, for their actions - begins at the end of Robert's Rebellion.
1. The Targaryens

King's Landing,

King's Quarters

The aftermath of Robert's Rebellion was in full effect. The Baratheon's wanted revenge for the fact that he killed Robert, which was to be expected given that he was the newest Lord's brother and so thus he took a hostage from Stannis Baratheon in order to keep the peace in Rhaegar's new _and_ improved regime. The Martells hated King Rhaegar, like the Baratheons, because he had annulled the lawful marriage between Elia Martell, Prince Doran's younger sister, and himself. Meanwhile, the Starks were tempted to disown the Queen for her actions which had resulted in the deaths of her older brother, Brandon, and her own father Rickard, which caused the Queen to go into a deep of state of depression, as her only other relative in the North wanted nothing to do with her & even wished to see her stricken of the last name Stark in deference for the Bastard's last name Snow, but Lord Eddard Stark choice not to simply because she was Queen, nothing else. But she was no longer respected in the North as she once was. Meanwhile, the other Lord Paramounts were in two categories concerning themselves; either they were loyal lapdogs of the Crown that had fought for them during Robert's Rebellion's, the Tyrells, or they were simply disgruntled by the new Queen and King, the Tully's and Arryns, because the aftermath of Robert's Rebellion had negatively affected them.

"No, I'm not disinheriting Aegon, Lyanna." Rhaegar sounded matter of fact about that, he'd never, ever disinherit him as long as he lived considering he was the last of his children amongst Elia's and she did everything to keep the boy alive, as he, Daenerys and Viserys were all sent to Dragonstone during the end of Robert's Rebellion. However, unfortunately, the King required both Elia and Rhaenys to stay behind at King's Landing. Both were murdered by Aerys II in a spur of craven madness - it was said that they were burnt to a crisp in the throne room, screaming in pain and agony alongside the Mad King's hands. It was even rumored he wanted to murder his own grandson, but that was an unfounded rumour, amongst other things.

"But Rhaegar, you promised me.." She'd say, weakly in response to him. Her face fell, indicating how she felt about that. She was promised that her son would be King someday in the Tower of Joy, but now that he thought about it, that sounded like a horrific idea, as Dorne would rebel and ultimately bring the Baratheon's on their side as they'd have a mutual enemy in common, which is

"I didn't promise to bring the realm into civil war, which is a imminent possibility if I did something like that." Rhaegar stated as calmly as he could muster - which was quite something, considering he like she had just crossed a line with the very suggestion of him disinheriting his own son -the Prince that was Promised, as he knew that the signals were there when a comet appeared overhead when he was born that night. He'd never disinherit the Prince That was Promised, regardless of what she thought about it.

"But I want my son to be king." She'd say, again, although this time sounding ignorant on the kind of shit they were in. She had no experience in court, but even she should know better than to expect something like that.

He rolled his gorgeous purple-coloured eyes at her in disdain and annoyance. Why did he marry a teenage girl again? He missed Elia in situations like these, where he could actually speak to her about political things without her being totally lost in a pile of ignorance and childishness and not mention unrealistic wants like the one she was continuing to want. Like he'd disinherit Elia's son, that would be unrealistic in the long run.

"Did you learn anything from your time in the North?" He'd ask her, because when she went there last, she came back with a many bruises and many of the Queen's kings guard were injured and wounded by the time they came back and Eddard Stark did nothing to stop those rebel's, as if to teach his sister a lesson about how actions had consequence and hers were no longer being respected by the Northmen a result. The people hated her for the deaths of her brothers and father's death, and it showed through the Northmen's actions against her. Though, he did offer to take the boy someday as a ward to Winterfell, as a penance to their crime. She felt relieved, at least he didn't blame her baby boy Aemon for her supposed crimes at least.

"'I... " She stammered, feeling suddenly sick at the memory of the people she once loved turned against her so fullily and utterly for her actions. She remembered how the men that attacked her called her brother's name "For Brandon!" They shouted her brother's name as they bagged their picking gear at her as if she was to blame for all those deaths caused in the North by her own actions she took, or may as well as taken during the rebellion she and Rhaegar caused out of a sense of love that seemly would last forever, and in doing so, she'd cause the deaths of so many lives so early on in their lives or in the prime of their lives. She'd, no _they'd_ , have destroyed families unwilling, they murdered, butchered, families from the smallest of peasants to the noblest of Lords, from every region across the bitter-filled landscape of Westeros. All in the name of love.

"My own brother Ned can't even look at me anymore. He thinks me... dishonourable!" She'd say, her eyes filling with tears. Although, it was his fault too, so he imaged the Lord of the North might have similar feelings towards him as well like that, although he hoped to clear it up alongside the issue of Robert's untimely death with the Baratheon's. He hoped Stannis would understand, at the very least as to why he had to kill Robert.

He'd reach towards the trembling girl and embrace her gently, letting her get out her tears. Which she did, as she babbled so more about Ned. She couldn't speak about him without this happening, she genuinely wanted his forgiveness, but he refused, staunch in his beliefs that what she and Rhaegar did was against his moral code and as a result, the once fruitful relationship between the two was gone, destroyed, even though Lyanna wished it not and hoped to one day redeem herself in his eyes as her only remaining relative.

"I'm sorry, sweet heart." He'd say, leaning in and kissing away all the tears off her face. She'd smile, weekly in response to him doing that, before taking one of his hands and placing it upon one of her wet cheeks, as she leaned into it. She stared into his purple-coloured eyes -they were so beautiful and so warm when ether he looked at her, she doubted that Elia ever got such a look from him. However, after Elia's death, as well as the death of his Rhaenys, he was got such irresistibly sad, it made her even more attracted to him as she wanted to comfort him herself.

She leaned in and kissed him there and there, and with a flush, he'd grab her closer, making the kiss heated and deep as could be. If there was one thing Rhaegar excelled at, it would be kissing, and as he pushed her forwards, she'd feel his tongue flushing her mouth like nothing before. She wasn't sure she could produce another, but it was well worth a try, she'd think. A nice baby girl would be nice, a Visenya. A little companion to her brother's and maybe a Rhaenys alongside her too, to make up for the lost of Aegon's sister.

He'd grin, never breaking their kiss as he picked her up in a Princess style, dress breaking and all, as he set her down on the queen sized bed. She meanwhile would continue to think about Aegon and about how she was going to deal with him, how she was going to deal with the toddler, on how she was going to disinherit him someday, and how magical it would be to be Queen Dowager someday to a King Aemon, first of his name, rather than just be a random girl Rhaegar had proclaimed as his official bedwarmer and brood's creator. Elia Martell, though albiet dead via Dragon fire, would Queen Dowager, someday when her _lovely_ husband Rhaegar died, which disappointed Lyanna. A fookin nothing, Elia Martell had in life. She was so weak that she couldn't even produce another child for her Princely _husband_. Lyanna also remembered her look of pure shook and boiling angrier, even as she held her Dornish looking daughter in her hands at the tourney of Harrenhal when she was given those beautiful blue roses by her _husband._

He'd grab his pants and hastily chuck them off, unto the floor they went in a flutter, than he grabbed her, and with one lurch, had her pinned underneath him, as he went inside of her, with a gasp or so of her name as he did so, whispering into her ear her name "Lyanna, LYANNA, Lyanna..." Over and over again, as he pressed himself against her. She tried pulling up her dress, but he wouldn't allow her with a smile on his face, as he lurched up her dress ever further to allow himself a even better angle of herself against him.

He kissed her neck, and eventually, got to her breast, and in one grip, he pulled out the fabric on the top of her dress, to reveal her young breasts beckoning him to grasp him in the cups of his hands. He'd take the opportunity, and fondled with them, like the beach whales they were, after giving birth to Jon, they were full of milk to give him, and as such, some of the milk stored inside of her sprayed gently on his greedy fingers, like no tomorrow.

He smiled at her when she started milking. He's experienced that with Elia once when she was done giving birth to Rhaenys. The milk got everywhere and Elia was so embarrassed by the site, it was adorable. He was reminded of Elia somewhat, even when fucking her, the exact opposite of Elia. Unlike Elia, she wasn't at all embarrassed at all by such a occurrence, and actually was smiling like she enjoyed it all.

"I dare you to lick my milk, Rhaegar." She said, taunting. Oh, a clever, little devil of a woman you are, Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar thought, as well as, challenge accepted.

He went to her milking breast he held in one of hands, and went down, and began licking it, defensively, rising to her challenge he set for her. Plus she was so hot, so hot. Everywhere. Even her cunt was hot and well steamed, as if awaiting for his attention. She turned him on with how turned on Lyanna was. She was meant to be fucked, and he was going to fuck the brains out of this one.

He made her giggle as he did that.

"How did I taste, darlin'?" She asked, with childish excitement. A child she was. A mere child, like his dear Rhaenys who was dead... And would never come back, even if she was a playful, happy little thing, that always had a laugh in her, and ran with Aegon as a good elder sister must. He also thought about Elia, but he wouldn't let himself dwell there for too long.

"Like... water and cheese." He responded back, looking at her with his milk-covered mouth. She giggled, covering her mouth to cover the cute sounds of her laughing. Lyanna was quite the little fox in be.

"Ooh, that's good!" She proclaimed, before smiling.

He removed the stuff of his mouth with his one of hands, before going back in to and placing himself deep within her once again. She moaned, his name, and he grunted, getting deeper and deeper inside of her with each push. He'd take to ripping off her entire dress, leaving it all bare for him now. He'd make sure that her legs were crossed between him, to allow himself to get a better grasp of inside of her.

"Ahhh, Rhaegar... Rhaegar..." She went on, sweating like nothing before. Before Rhaegar took away her virginity that one special night in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, she'd think about that one night, as she fell slightly asleep, even if Rhaegar was inside of her, she was so utterly sleepy...

"Lyanna... My dear girl, are you tired?" He stated, as he stopped, precariously inside of her.

"Hmmm?" She responded by yawning.

"Okay, you wanna be done?"

"That would nice, thank you. But also, thank you for the excellent sex, Rhaegar." She blew him a kiss before giggling besides herself.

"Alright." He said, removing himself fully from her, however, he'd snuggle against her, as the two fell asleep, butt nude, under the soft fabric of the king sized bed as he plopped the rather sleepy Queen under their along with himself. She fell asleep very fast, much to his delight. She was such a stunning creature... He patted her head, as she put her against his chest. He was glad she was happy, asleep even. She was so cute, fast asleep... It was a good sight to behold for the King


	2. Jon Connington and Lyanna Stark

"Your Gold Cloak Commander is being ineffective at keeping the peace within the city, Rhaegar." Jon was going to kill that incompetent Gold Cloak Commander, for allowing this large uncontrollable group of small folk to uprise off of their shite lands in Flea Bottom and into the streets of the rest of the city. So far, they've maimed the High Septon on Baelors holy statue, claiming he wasn't a true deity of the Seven Gods, given that he allowed an annulment of the very marriage he signed up for to begin with, killed a member of the King's Guard, raped several fleeing noblewoman, killed half a dozen noblemen, and even some innocent septons that just so happened to have gotten in their way. They were so far, pressing to Aegon's High Hill to the Red Keep, screaming justice for Elia Martell and her child, Rhaenys, even though It wasn't Rhaegar's wrong-doing. The people hated the Queen and King, and the Gold Cloaks were being of no help thus far, given that several of their members had been over-run and stampeded upon by those... unhappy souls.

"I know." Rhaegar took a sip of his large wine bottle with a drunken smile adoring his lips. "I hate them.. curse em!... You.. know... I want their houses burnt down, all of them. I.. wanna see smoke in my city, from you... bringing the hic gold cloaks to do so." Rhaegar's been getting more and more drunk each day, Jon thinks, concernedly. That wasn't a good thing for the King to being doing, given that he had a country to run as it was. But than again, Jon would think, if they burnt buildings than they'd risk burning the entire city down, which wasn't something Jon wanted to be responsible for. __It's why I didn't burn Robert and that town during the battle of the battle of the Bells..__ He'd think, wearily enough. Indeed, because of that, Rhaegar had gotten hurt - very hurt, considering it was he and Lord Eddard Stark that had to save the Queen in her tower of Joy. Plus, the man was walking with a cane, given that the injury was done to him - as in Robert's hammer had hit one of the King's legs, shattering his uttermost right knee cap. It was a miracle he had survived and beaten Robert, given the injury he had obtained from the battle-ax of Robert.

"We'd risk burning the entire city, If we were to burn their homes.." Jon stated, staring at the crowd bustling outside of the Aegonfort's vast gates. Indeed, there was a reason to be very wary of the situation going on here, in the main city of King's Landing, it was a sign of deep civil unrest. Though, the entire country was suffering - from the Riverlands, of whom's land were left scarred by the war, and many a Riverlanders were dead from the war on their territory and as for the North. The North suffered great losses during Robert's Rebellion, losing a great deal of Northerners during the in-fighting. And then there was the Vale, left almost completely unscathed during the battle besides for Gulltown, which Jon Arryn had attacked due to it's liege lord being a loyalist to the Crown during the fighting. It was still in a state of recovery, due to the attack done by the Vale Knights of Jon Arryn's and Robert Baratheon, even though Rhaegar was now forcing Jon Arryn to pay the Lord of Gulltown compensation to make up for his rather destructive attack on the port city.

"Whyyy… not? They seemed to want to.. see... me... dead... hic... They think that my marriage... that's... it's.. A grand ol' __farce__... they... say... hic, _ _Elia's__ my true and only wife..." He whinged, taking another sip of his wine, which sounding undeniably pathetic to Jon's ears. He didn't just fight a war for King Rhaegar's Kingship, just for him to settle into a drunkard of a King, even though he had a sufficient reason to be acting like this... right now at least.

"My King, do you mind sitting down at least?" He asked him, staring at King Rhaegar. He was hobbling around with that raven-coloured cane of his, which did not make him look very impressive at all. Not to mention, he had some milk and poppy right on the counter of the empty-like chamber, but he refused to touch the stuff in preference for drinking off his pain with a bottle. __I think he's gravely upset that he'll never be able be as great as a fighter as he once was...__ He'd think cautiously to himself. Rhaegar use to be a great fighter, a prudent battle-commander more-or less. The Maesters say he'll forever be walking funnily due to Robert hurting one of his legs though.

The King stared at the chair in front of him, before slightly hobbling towards it, to prompt his legs on the table above. It may have been rather unKingly to do that, but Rhaegar really very much was hurt at the moment. "Fine. Now, Jon... hick.. Do what needs to be done against those small folk. Put em to the sword if you need too. I don't care, just get them to stop rampaging against my nobles, against my folk, as it was." Rhaegar sighed, before shooing him off with both a peculiar expression on his face and his loyal finger. He went back to drinking shortly afterwards he left. So far, he's finished two bottles of wine, which was pathetic. He was suppose to be a King, not be another Robert-in disguise, but at least he wasn't doing anything untimely towards Queen Lyanna, of whom was recovering from the birth of Prince Aemon in her bed chambers still. __He wasn't so considerate towards Elia when she was recovering from Aegon's birth.__ Both of these woman of his - Elia and Lyanna alike, he didn't like them, but he didn't want to see them being abused by Rhaegar…

As soon as he walked out, however he ran into Prince Aegon sitting out in the hallway, with his raven-coloured kitten. He seemed to look a bit sad, sitting there, with those lavender coloured eyes of his having a bit of a red undertone underneath it. His sliver-gold hair was messy, even though it had been recently cut and bathed, and he was dressed in a fine raven-coloured outfit, meant for a little boy of his age. He was also contently patting the his little kitten ignoring everything around him, though there were things happening around the little prince's golden-sliver head.

"How'd you end up here, little Prince?" He wondered how this child somehow ended up here.

"Because... I wanna see pappy. He never visits me or Aeeemmon." He pouted, looking at him. The young Prince was said to suffer from heavy nightmares after losing Elia, and scared his younger brother due to his screams for his mother. He'd know, because sometimes he looked over the boy when he slept. He was such a tiny, innocent child, whom looked so very much like his father, that it was hard for Jon not to feel something of pity for the boy given the circumstances. He hoped that someday, when he was a father to his own brood of children, that he'd be able to comfort their tears when they were sad or mourning. Or when they fell over, but all he saw was open sadness in the little boy's lavender colored eyes, and he doubted Aegon knew why he was feeling so sad, due to him being so utterly young and being a __mere__ tod amongst other things.

Rhaegar didn't seem to care for the two boys, but that was just what Jon assumed given that he was too busy crying that he lost Rhaenys, his third head, and too busy to even visit the two little boys and their nursemaids, though the Queen sometimes visited them. Though, Rhaegar did still considered Aegon the supposed _ _Prince that was Promised__ \- he was even willing to marry him off to Daenerys, his aunt and the newborn babe, simply both had the classical Valyrian look - golden-sliver hair and purple eyes. That marriage was arranged shortly after the Princess was born on Dragonstone. However, the Queen had died in the process of giving Daenerys life, but the King didn't seem like he mourning her. He never not once mentioned Rhaella, even though he attended seeing Rhaella's body burning in the traditional Targaryen fashion. He attended the affair without blinking a single drop of tears from his eye lids, and was completely stone faced throughout the entire ordeal, as far as Jon was aware, at least

"I'm sorry little one." He muttered. "You should go back to your room though."

"Ownly Qween Lyanna visits us, and she just stares at me like I.. I'm quite unwelcome.." His eyes filled with unsaid tears.

He was no good with children, though he'd help the boy up, along with his cat, and bring him back to his room. There, he saw little brown-haired Aemon sleeping. He looked so very much like his uncle, Lord Benjen Stark, if he was tiny and grumpier version of his uncle - and he gently put the boy back into the raven-coloured child's room - though the little prince protested against the action, with him crying that all he wanted was a lady to snuggle with, to keep him company, and read him books. Aegon didn't appear too happy, considering he kept on calling Balerion, the cat, _ _Rhaenys__ friend. Which was a bit sad. He'd call the woman that kept watch forward to keep Aegon happy, as he immediately begun cuddling up against her on the bed, his hand on his cat as she softly laughed and leaned up against him.

He'd close the door silently, as to not disturb either of the little boys - from the infant to the tod, he'd be considerate of them both.

He walked back to the place where he'd assume the Gold Cloak commander was. The Gold cloak commander was a nobleman from House Massey, and thus was of an applicable rank, although he considered him incompetent as far as it went though. He was a tall, lean young man with sheen blonde-colored hair - but he, like most his age, thought war was a game. He use to think too, before he actually experienced it first hand. This young man was nearly five-and-ten years of age, a mere three year difference, but regardless, the age between them was astonishing. It was like looking at himself a year behind - when he was still a foolhardy boy, amongst other things, with stupid, foolhardy dreams that never came true. Indeed, Rhaegar saw to that. He was forced to marry a Hightower woman named Lynesse for his insured loyalty during Robert's rebellion. His marriage was enough to end any dreams of him with Rhaegar… which was unfortunate...

"Massey, if you don't get this large mass scale riot in line.." He snarled.

"You know, I didn't fight in the war, but this - these peasants are only scum with pitchforks. What could they possible do against armed knights beyond kneel?" The arrogant whippersnapper went, as he stood there, dressed in the cowl of House Massey.

"Oh, well let's see. They killed the High Septon by tearing him into two halves, killed several Kingslander lords - which include Lord Rykker, Lord Rosby, and Lady Stokeworth. They raped the beautiful virginal daughter of Lady Strokesworth, and some unimportant lesser known noblewoman. They are out of control, and if you don't do something about it, I'll have your head nailed on one of the Seven Entrances alongside the rotting head of Robert Baratheon." Jon was actually fully tempted to choke him himself if he didn't do something about it, immediately.

"The last Commander died by being nailed through the chest with a flaming pitchfork than he was promptly trampled on. I need reinforcements of Knights, if I'm to do my job. Mind if I borrow Arthur Dayne or Jaime Lannister?"

"No, but the King might. Better ask him." Jon knew he was the hand, but Rhaegar was being very precarious in regards to his King's Guard - and was tempted to dismiss Jaime, mostly to appease the wrath of Lord Tywin Lannister, and not to mention, the fact that Jaime was to marry Lady Lysa Tully soon, whilst his sister was to marry Stannis Baratheon to keep the Baratheons loyal to the throne, as it was. So best not to use the Golden boy against the blood-hungry crowd, he'd assume, to prevent Lord Tywin from losing his heir as it was, and not to mention, such tasks were beneath a nobleman such as himself anyhow. He was to be a Lord Paramount, someday anyhow, when Rhaegar retired him and sent him back to the Westerlands to make Tywin pleased. Which would likely happen, given that the King dearly waned the Old Lion on his side when rebuilding the Kingdom from its current state/

"Okay, Ser. Thank you for.. your threats.. I suppose." He frowned, but Jon took no heed of it. At least he got a message through that thick skull of his, which was all that was important as it stood.

"Best you go support your men, as their being slaughtered in the streets by those murderous kremlins." He sighed, at least it would do him better to actually be with his men on the streets than be hiding in this cupboard of all places. The boy looked down, before frowning and walking off. He wondered how the bloody fook that little boy had been chosen to lead the Golden Cloaks, amongst other things. He was barely old enough to be a Ser Knight, much less be in charge of the gang that was keeping King's Landing in order. That was a mystery he wished to ask Rhaegar, given that the last one had been a well-experienced older man from House Celtigar. It was a shame he died, given that he kept the Line in order and was quite competent at his given chore, as it was

The resolve,

The peasant revolt ended in pain. Lots of pain on either side. But not after Queen Lyanna gave birth to the first of many ugly stillbirths, in a sign that the gods disliked oath breakers, or so whispered around King's Landing. It was so ugly, the ordeal of the riot of King's Landing, that Rhaegar had to get a loan from Braavos's Iron Bank to clean up his debts and to rebuild the area of King's Landing the rioters had set on fire. He also ordered marriages, between Jon Arryn and Lord Grafton's sister, a young and healthy woman named Alyssa, and a promised marriage between Lord Renly Baratheon and Jeyne Connington, Lord Jon Connington's young daughter. He also used the money from Braavos to help rebuild the Riverlands and return prosperity to the realm.

But alas...

"Please Rhaegar, please stop hurting me.." Lyanna whimpered, as Rhaegar harshly kissed her breasts and pink tits as she tried hiding them from his wrath. He got blood out of her lately, more and more, he'd been hurting her since she failed to produce his third head. All she had were still births, a hated symbol practically, for everyone hated her. Everyone, including the small folk whom called her the whore queen, the adulterous bitch, and other non-too kindly words. The look in his eyes was furious, as he placed himself into her once more. He kept on drawing blood from her, and causes bruises to arise on her neck, whenever he sucked there too hard, which was often enough.

"I don't care, you infertile bitch." He raged, slapping her. Her eyes widened, as she felt the bruises growing on her cheek from him hitting her. One of his hands were keeping her from moving, as he went over her and entered her again, though it was so harsh... So harsh, it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't give him another child. She tried too. Her eyes filled with tears. She may as well have married Robert, given how awful Rhaegar was. She was so disillusioned, now two years later into their marriage, that she didn't know how he could fall for such a obsessed man. It was clear from day one all he wanted from her was one child, but now that Rhaenys his sweet girl, was dead he needed another to take her place. But she couldn't fulfil it. It was said he slept with other woman, in the desperate hope that one of them would give him a bastard to legitimize, but Lyanna didn't know if she could believe this rumour or not, given that it was Lord Varys whom gave her this tidbit on Rhaegar's short comings... "I only wanted you to produce my dragon heads, and the fact you can't even do that, despite being young, makes you an infertile waste of my time. I wonder why I even bothered to marry you, and not just kill Elia with another child. That would please more, more than you failing your duties as a fooking wife, woman." He sneered at her, and it made his beautiful face look so ugly.

"I'm sorry... Please, please stop hurting me." Her eyes were tearing up. She no doubt had a large bruise on her face.

He got off of her, but before looking at one her dresses. "Nobody cares about you anyhow. Your brother doesn't care about you, I don't care about you, nobody cares about you, Lady Stark." His response hurt her internally, as she sobbed besides herself at hearing her husband say such terrible, awful things about her, though true they may be.

"Your a horrible husband, Rhaegar Targaryen, and I regret marrying you, or falling for your tricks. All you are is a obsessed mad man, I see it now. I once told my brother love would never change a man's nature in regards to Robert, but I see now that lesson also applies to you!" She screamed at him. Though, she couldn't kill him - It would be impossible, and she'd be murdered for it. She didn't want Aemon knowing she murdered his father anyhow. That wouldn't do well on her conscientious, anyhow, to know that she murdered his father - she didn't want to go to her grave knowing her sweet boy would forever hate her for that. She wanted his love, more than anything, given that he was the last one to have any kind of sympathy or emotion towards herself.

He stared at her again. "All I wanted was someone to give me my three dragon heads. It's clear, that you cannot do that, because your physically incapable of doing so." He responded, before leaving her to her roost.

She sighed, sitting in her room, on her bed, with her skirt flipped upside down as she sat there, staring into space. This marriage, it had been a mistake of a naive child of fifteen, not by a grown woman, not like the grown woman she was now. If she had been good as a young girl, at least she could've convinced her father to marry her to a Northern Lord - maybe Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island. He was in need of heirs, and besides, she would've been a good wife to him. Not to any of the Southern Lords - but her father had southern ambitions for his children, and thus this is why Ned is currently married to that Tully woman, because of Brandon. She missed Brandon - his hot-tempered, bright spirit, he kind of reminded her of Robert, now that she thought of it. Is this why Ned convinced father to marry her off to Lord Robert, despite her protests? Did he think she wished to marry her own brother? She wondered this vaguely.

She hoped Rhaegar burned in all of the Hells for the sins of hurting her. Of being a mad man, of emotionally manipulating her. It was clear, he loved her nought, but she wasn't sure Ned would listen to her pleas, to please take her back into his graces. To please, forgive the errors of a child that didn't know any better. But alas.. Ned would never know, and she felt so very sad about that. She very much regretted everything she did with Rhaegar - now, she was just his broodmare, his property more or less. She wasn't free anymore, and it made her want to cry besides herself - she missed her freedom, that was now completely lost to her.


	3. Rhaegar Targaryen

It had started because Elia couldn't produce another child. Now, it ended because Lyanna couldn't do the same. All Rhaegar wanted for was one daughter - two wives, a dead daughter, that wasn't good enough, but Lyanna couldn't see it - couldn't produce it, she couldn't do her intended purpose, as they burned several dead mutated babe corpses in Baelor's Sept, as the new High Septon - nicknamed the Knightly one, considering he was a former Marcher Knight until he decided to become a literal priest to the Warrior aspect of the Seven that were one - blessed their dead abomination souls into one of the Seven Heavens. Lyanna watched, and watched the ashes burn. When she was younger, she use to scream and throw massive hissy fits over losing one of her babes. But now, she stood there in the crystal clear sept of his distant ancestor, like an unspeakable ghost, pale as could be, watching it. He had never loved her, not even after he took her at the tourney - loving her was not a part of his plan, no, a third head was - for his Rhaenys, and little Aegon at King's Landing, for Elia even, though she hated him for it, considering she punched him in the face after the journey's end. He even had a chipped tooth from it - he hadn't told her about marrying Lyanna as a second wife for fear on how she'd react to it. Now that he thought about it, she would've ran back to Dorne immediately, dragging his children with her, and coming back with Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, to punish him for his deeds.

"Lyanna, all I wanted out of you was a daughter. A daughter, that's all I asked of you, Lyanna." He whispered whilst staring at the ashes.

"I know." He didn't hurt her, not very often - he wasn't a monster, no, he wasn't. He may have.. hurt her before, but not very often. He wasn't a monster, he wasn't his father - no, he wasn't. He'd keep on telling himself this, but Lyanna, she once fought back against him like Elia did, until he stripped away her youthful and vigorous spirit very slowly under two years. She had to know, that he owed her, despite her formerly being the Smiling Knight, such rhetoric was for children, like he reminded her time and again that she wasn't. He supposed that he had house-trained his new little wife, finally, at long last, despite her youth and strong will. "I'm sorry I haven't been able too, my moon's blood been wonky lately and the Maester think it shall totally dissipate soon." She sighed, staring at the white dust, with clear sadness in her grey eyes.

"Fine. For now, I shall do with dealing with Lord Stannis and his posy of Lannisters, no doubt because he married one." He chuckled sort of light-heartedly. Lord Stannis's wife had produced her first child for him - a boy, with bright blue eyes and a head of raven-colored hair. He also said to be robust and strong for his age, but that was to be expected, he was the son of a Baratheon afterall and the Baratheons were known for being the tall, robust sort of man as it was. Stannis still stood over himself, which he didn't find funny because without Renly's fostership underneath himself, he'd no doubt be Storm King and causing all kinds of mayhem for him. He understood that Ned Stark wouldn't do anything due to Benjen Stark (of whom he plotted to marry to one of his own Dragonstone bannerman's daughters) for similar reasons for Stannis, but both were pains in his arse, like that insufferable Red Viper fellow, Elia's unearnest brother. That one, he really wanted him dead, even disregarding Elia's son still being amongst the living, and blamed the two of them for Elia's suffering under the Mad King.

"I believed you married Lady Cersei to Lord Stannis because Lord Tywin Lannister wished to see his daughter in a powerful position in the Seven Kingdoms, and you were obligated to follow him due to him being the source of our gold to pay off the Braavosi and the droning Rivermen, for their troubles." She repeated. At least she put her free time to good use, when he wasn't around. She was much more acknowledged than two years hence. Now she was a grown noblewoman that wasn't naïve anymore to the ways of the court, which was a sign of character development on her behalf. Or so he certainty thought so, at the very least.

"Have you been studying my dearest Lyanna?" He couldn't help himself but smirk if that were true, that she was making she was better equipped for her own Queenly-hood that she was so ill-prepared for in the beginning. It took some time her to adjust, he'd think, but she did it thus far. The High Septon rantings about the gods blessing the ashes of the dead infant girl annoyed him. The girl was dead, as dead as his own dead siblings that his mother whelped from her bloody womb - indeed, he felt as though he could hear her sometimes, whispering in his ear that he was mad, in his prophecy, that the greater good was lesser than the good right in front of him. Like Aegon - his son was shy, well-mannered, and a decent hand with the sword - and Aemon, of whom was bold, bright and adventurous, so unlike Aegon in personality, but yet the boys got along great. He had plans to send Aemon off to Winterfell to be supervised in his activities under Lord Eddard Stark, the boy's restlessly cold uncle, and his own Warden of the North, and Aegon was to be fostered in Dorne under the cautious thumb of Prince Doran. He wasn't sure they'd like that, being separated from one another given their current closeness, but he also decided he didn't care.

"Yes, my King. I'd rather be a good Queen than the one I was at the beginning of your reign. I was a wild little girl with her head In the clouds about romantic notions, that being a Queen meant I would be able to do whatever I wanted. But I learned - rather harshly, mind you - that a Queen should be able to hold her head up beyond the clouds and makes connections for herself for her Kingly husband. I was such a bloody fool, to think otherwise." She sighed, and for a minute, he'd think Elia would proud of the girl, to see her embracing her Queenship. Elia herself, she would've been a great Queen and a even greater mother, for her entire life was built around Rhaenys and Aegon's well beings. He kind of missed her from time to time, she had been his first love, and the time they had together was still dear to his heart, even if he didn't fully love her. No, he loved her as a member of his family - she had been a friend, a caretaker to him, and he mourned her passing, even if Lyanna didn't know it yet.

"A good Queen is always someone that looks out for her people." He'd say, as he gently took her arm. She had been cutting her long brown-colored hair, he'd note, looking at how displaced some hair lines were at the back of her head. It also served to make it look somewhat messy, but it made her somehow look pretty. Lyanna had never been as beautiful as Cersei Lannister, Lord Stannis's own lady wife, but she was pretty enough as it was. Her eyes were a dull sort of grey color now, but not too long ago, her eyes had been a flashing grey color - but that was after she had been in for a rather rude awakening, after her awakening, she had been become much more accommodating to her own Queenship. He'd take her gentle arm, before gently escorting her out of the sept.

Lyanna wore a drab, but well-fitted raven-colored dress that extended to her feet, and a raven-colored corset was tied to her waist with a white-colored bow to keep it in place. Her outfit was modest, with high cuffs and long sleeves to add to the modest feel of her. Her hair, once a straight, bland sort of thing, was now frizzy and wavy, as if she couldn't keep it under control herself. She wore no makeup, which added her to wilderness sort of beauty Lyanna possessed, it made her a woman-child of unsurprising loveliness, as some said about her. He personally thought her as less pretty as Cersei. He wished he had married Cersei, not her - Cersei seemed most devout to him, when he sang his songs at Harrenhal she cried and she still liked him, given how she still flirted with him, behind her husband's backside, even though most of the time Stannis seemed to notice it like a hawkeyed individual . He didn't seem too pleased about that development, even though Rhaegar wasn't about to react on his feelings for the Lady.. for now at least. Maybe later, because right now, he'd be walking a dangerous road with her and hurting Lord Stannis even more so if he did the deed right now. Besides, he had a bad repute for stealing brides from High Lords - and thus they called him "King Rhaegar the Bride Stealer" like that Bael fellow up North was to King Brandon the Daughterless, or so Lyanna told him during their stay during the Tower of Joy.

"Yes, a Good Queen also stays in reality and does charity work for her people. Mind If I do some for Flea's Bottom, my King? The people down there could use the food, after you starved them out for half a year during the revolt." Rhaegar frowned. During the revolt, he had lost Elia's great uncle due to him being stampeded upon by those awful people and thus Rhaegar had to replace him - and so he choice a member of House Tarly to join him within his ranks. The young man had been a cousin of the main Tarly branch, and he had a prestigious combat background behind him, and besides, he was a natural with any blade he came across, which made him an invaluable member of his King's Guard. As for his Queen giving the low-folk money, he wasn't sure if he wanted Lyanna, his Queen, anywhere near them nor their filth after what they did to his precious city. Them killing the Fat Septon was fine though, the man was in need of slaughtering after he kept on proclaiming that he'd commit self-harm after what he did. Indeed, slaughtering that pious fool was for the best. The new High Septon was an admirable warrior, but also obedient and mild-mannered, a puppet to himself nevertheless, and that was for the best.

They burned down streets after street, slaughtering entire Noble Kingslander houses and families in the process. It would take years for the streets of King's Landing to be completely cleared and rebuilt the many houses they had burnt down after the amount of damage they had wrought across the city. It had taken a miracle of someone finally sacking the lower crevasses of his city, to which he was eternally grateful. He believed he gave them a sack of gold for it, before they went marching back to their own holdfasts. He wasn't sure which one of his bannermen led the charge, but whomever it was, he surely was grateful for their efforts to save their rightful king from death's hands.

"No. Give to the Wall, whatever charitable event you decide to have, give the funds of such an event to the Black Brothers. The Wall are in a greater need of charitable donations than those beneath our feet are. They'll actually appreciate it, given their steadily dwindling numbers." Rhaegar had been to the Wall, and seen that the Brothers weren't doing as well as they could be doing, and it concerned him. For Winter was Coming to Westeros, Melisandre, his Red Priestess spiritual adviser had said, as she looked into her flames which foresaw the future of Westeros. He was unsure of what to make of R'hllor, that strange god of hers from across the sea, but he considered her advice invaluable to him. She said that Aegon was without a doubt, was the Prince that was Promised - he did hit all of the marks of what the prophecy proclaimed anyhow - he was born on Dragonstone, a place of salt and smoke, he was born in the long summer under a red-colored comet upon his birth, and besides, his lineage was correct. He was of the line of Aerys II and his sister-wife Rhaella.

"I'll keep that in mind, my King." She bowed before him gently, "My brother will appreciate the gesture, no doubt." She sounded a bit heart-broken, but he paid her no heed to it. She often cried at night about his frostiness towards her, and sometimes he'd comfort her about Lord Oh-Honorable's lack of wit about taking advantage of his own daughter being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Only a witless fool wouldn't at least send some of his levies in support of a Queen of their same House, but Lord Ned Stark refused to any such thing. Indeed, he ruined Lyanna, even though she begged and pleaded for him to take her back, he refused it, because my honor and similar bollix excuses to what Lord Stannis said about anything. He sometimes believed those gents worked against him together, given how similar personality-wise they were to one another, and besides, they have the same excuse for their rather similar pesty behavior of their's. They were worse than the annoyance of the Red Viper and the Red Viper was extremely annoying to him, so much so, he exiled that man from King's Landing under the threat of death. Upon leaving the capital, the man had the nerve... the fooking nerve... to show off his backside with a chuckle.

"Yes, he will. I'm sure Lord-Commander Mormont will as well. He's sent me several letters for help." He shrugged, as they walked out of the cathedral together. He had his arm around her own tiny one, but she didn't seem to mind it very much. She felt warm and soft, and she smelled distinctively of harsh peppermint.

"I'm glad you care about the North, my King."

"Winter is coming, as they say, and we best be prepared for those dark days ahead of us. Lyanna Stark, and indeed, I have an proposition for that very problem, but I'm not sure your brother would agree to this idea of mine." He had plans to mass-mine the dragon glass under Dragonstone before giving some of the precious metal to the Northern Lords to defend themselves against the might of the Others that were sure to come. He had heard there only weakness was Dragonglass made weaponry as it was. Some of the Southern Lords - the well-known Warrior great houses anyhow, would get some dragonglass. It was a massive project of his, and many things could go awry, from incompetent management, to the unhappy Lords that complained about how much sound the miners under their lands were making as they collected the precious ore and put it into carts for exportation to the mainland, to the Lords that were offended that they weren't worthy enough to get Dragon glass of their own. He himself though, he was going to get Dark Sister at the very least, given that it was still within the lands of Westeros. He'd find the Valyrian-steel made sword and wield it as his own weapon, not get a dull new one in his place - no, he'd rather use on his ancestral blades, even though he felt saddened to know that Blackfyre was gone from the realm and thus completely out of his reach.

Of course, he planned to give some to Lord Tywin Lannister, so that he might make himself a new Bright Roar as Rhaegar's heard he wanted, and besides, his heir was one of the greatest fighters in all of Westeros. It would do the Lannister's well to have some of the ore, to do what they wish with it, and because it would repay them for their invaluable help in the aftermath of the rebellion itself. They helped him a great deal with offering loans to him, that he felt he owed them something in repayment, something large...


	4. Jon Connington II and Aemon Targaryen

Jon Connington,

King's Landing was full of exotic traders and Spicers from far and wide, selling their delicate wares under thick white-colored sheets of Myr made cotton. People of all sorts wandered the streets, to be lost in the various collections the yappy street merchants had to offer them. They offered everything, from purple dye from the various purple-haired woman, dressed in exotically wanton outfits to attract customers to their hair dye collections they had had on display, to the Yi-Tish merchants, whom were usually small, moustached men selling herbed, exotic tea with their gentle Yi-Tish accents, and their rather exotic wear - indeed, they wore the House Insignias of the various God Emperors that had arisen out of their country as of late; but all of them were basically different coloured swirled dragons, which King Rhaegar found amusing enough. They also were selling clothes, beautiful woven Yi-Tish made clothing, made from the icky substance of a secret worm they only had in Yi-Tish, and it was beautiful, and such a fine cotton material, that supposedly it caused civil wars within in Yi-Tish itself, and between the neighbouring country surrounding the vast country, who wanted to know how the secrecy behind how to make the legendary cloth itself.

As for Jon, he was watching Melisandre. King Rhaegar's rather quick and new spiritual advisor, even taking away the High Septon out of the mix. It was rumoured he had slept with this red woman, which made Jon immediately distrust her gentle presence with ease. She had quickly inserted herself into his life, given Rhaegar's deep interest in prophecies and the likes, and she told him what he wanted to hear, inventively making his interest in her larger than the current ambivalent King seemed to realise by this point. He got told about the future, the prophecy of her foreign religion __R'hllor,__ of Azor Ahai reborn and the tale behind the first hero during the age of Ice and giants. He even hated how it sounded, on his mouth - he knew it that cult, that it shouldn't be trusted. It was full of unspeakable demon lovers, and nor was he a particularly religious man, but he's heard of what they did to victims in their great temples in Essos. They burn alive victims in the Fire God's name and proclaimed the adherable prayer of there's to be holy to Him. That was not the kind of cult they needed in Westeros, Jon Connington would think, watching the tall, red-cloaked woman, with her shimmering emerald necklace upon her pale neck.

"Jon Connington, the Griffin Knight. I've seen you in my visions of things to come, my Hand." She winked at him, as If she knew. His eyes widened, staring into those intoxicating blue eyes of hers. She was taller than he was, by nearly an inch, making her a woman of an unnatural size, as she stared down at him like an eagle. Honestly, her eyes, they were like staring into flames, unspeakable flames, like a bonfire or the leftovers from one of the Smith's creations. It was undeniably unsettling, staring into the eyes of a person such as herself. He knew their saying, she said it enough, but he felt as though their religion was not for him. He was fine with the Seven Gods himself personally, but he wasn't sure if Rhaegar thought so as well.

"How'd you know it was me, Melisandre?" __Witch.__

"Because I love ginger hair, my Griffin Lord. And because you play an essential role in the Game to come - you shall have to choice between two lives sooner than you think - one is duty, one is love. Whichever one you choice will decide how the Seven Kingdom is shaped in the future, Jon Connington. " Her passive questions on future things somewhat irritated Jon. But, when it came down to it, Jon was nothing but a dutiful man, burdened to a man full of secrecy and cunning. He also had a suspicion he had a hand to play in the Queen's recently adopted passive behaviour, considering before she was a fighter, a woman with a warrior's heart, but now she was nothing, besides for a passive and loyal wife to Rhaegar's whims. He didn't see any marks upon her skin the last time he checked, but he couldn't know for certain..

"What do you mean by that, woman?" Jon snapped. He'd choice duty without a doubt. His son, Arthur, of whom had named after Arthur Dayne, was at Griffin's Roast alongside his mother and sister - so they were out of harm's way, for the most part anyhow. He sometimes brought Arthur to court, but that was becoming rarer and rarer, as Jon slowly realised the state of Rhaegar's mind. He may have been nice and kind around others, but Jon knew him. He pushed Aegon and considered Aegon non-to sufficient, considering he sometimes made condescending remarks on his son's abilities, whenever the boy was in his room, in solitude. Though now he was in Dorne whilst his brother was in the North - both squiring under their Lordly uncles, respectively.

"You'll see." Melisandre's cool smile said it all, as she moved away into the crowd, blending into them as she went along, which she did so seemliness considering her size and the fact she wore blood-red colored clothing, which was a very noticeable color indeed. Jon was confused on how she was able to do this trick of her, whenever she said unbeknownst and mysterious things to him.

He however, continued over to where one of the tea merchants, singing his song t the passersby, no doubt. He was a big burly man, wearing a bright purple-coloured swirled dragon in a Yi-Tish fashion. His smile was tiny, and his raven-colored hair was tied back in a simplex bun behind his tiny round face, although he seemed polite enough. He had a nice accent, and besides, Jon liked watching the tea ceremony he did with his small footed little daughter. She was about ten years of age, with a white coating on her face and deep red-colored lips to add to it. She also was dressed in a kimoto, or so they called it in their country of Yi-Tish, her shiny raven hair was down like a maidens, and she sat like a delicate doll upon the tiny raven-coloured platform as the merchant and the child herself paused to sip the boiling hot tea in the delicately flowered large white tea cups of theirs .

"Ello Lord Jon of Griffin's Roast, my daughter Hoshi and I were just performing our famous tea ceremony, if you'd care to join us, my Lord. I swear, it'll be worth your time." He smiled, giving him a purple-coloured sipping cup. Jon liked the fragrance of the tea in the air, and the tea set looked nice enough.

He joined them, taking a seat as the man continued duping the flowery tasting tea in cups. Jon wondered what the statue he had on the table was suppose to be of - it appeared to be a laughing fat bald man wearing a cherry-red colored thing that revealed his chest hairs. Jon wondered if that was this man's official religion or something, but he moved past it with ease.

He put the steaming hot tea with flowers in to the girl first, to taste presumably. The girl smiled, which caused her father to frown, before she took the tea cup gently in her oversized multiple-colored sleeves, before tasting it as delicately as possible. She took one sip out of it, before giving it back to her father, before sweetly smiling and replying with.

"Father, I love taste-tasting the __chia__ tea you bring with you from our naïve region in Yi-Tish. It's always tasteful, and well-executed - and not to mention, it's almost good enough to make-up for losing rice-paddies." The girl had rotting, broken teeth, that Jon could visibly see whenever she smiled. Her teeth were stained, but she had a good, cute little accent. He also could also see to his distant, that the girl's feet had been bound in small leather shoes too small of a size for a girl her size. That seemed so utterly barbaric, the idea of binding's one foot - and what in the Gods name did they do it for in from wherever this tea maker merchant was from? Beauty? The girl was only about ten years of age anyhow. She didn't deserve such barbarism, but she seemed fine upon her seat though.

Her father smiled, and whispered something in her naïve tongue, which Jon didn't understand, which shut the girl up. "Excuse my daughter my lord, I didn't teach her the common tongue for her to blab." He bowed before him. Jon sipped his tea, before slipping away from the pair. The tea was pretty good, but he needed to get back to the capital, to deal with Rhaegar Targaryen, of whom no doubt was awaiting his arrival at court. The man was always waiting for him, regardless if he liked it or no, considering he was the Hand of The King, as it was.

Aemon Targaryen

"I didn't want, I mean, I didn't __want__ to start the war, no, I didn't. I didn't even know there would be a war from the very beginning, I never saw Brandon's expression on the stands, I never saw Ned's face either. He must've been furious, now that I think about. Now, I know that I caused deaths, my brother Brandon's death, my own father's, their death shall be on my conscientiousness forever, as is Lord Dustin's amongst other Nothern lords, that lost his life at the Trident. I caused death In my pursuit of love, my son and I will live forever knowing I caused it, please don't let my brother's angrier upset you, my dear son, he's not angry with you, he's angry at me.." His mother had said to him upon his arrival here, her sad faced sketched into his brain, as he walked around Winterfell's vast forestry, that seemly looked upon him with despair as he entered the God's Wood sacred white and red faced elder faced weirwood tree, with it being surrounded by it's vast swamp of raven-coloured looking muck. He couldn't hear his own footprints, and looking above him, at all of those vast, untrimmed trees growing above him made him feel nervous. This wasn't Aemon's place, no, King's Landing's gently trimmed gardens were, with Aegon by his side. He missed Aegon...

"Hello Prince Aemon, you look a bit nervous." A voice startled him, of whom made him turn around besides himself. There, he saw Sansa Stark, his cousin, standing there, dressed in a white-raven dress that extended gently down her side. Her eyes were a soft blue, like her mothers, but Aemon thought he could die in those kind of eyes of her, in all honesty.

"Oh, I don't mean to be nervous my lady. I love exploring, and besides, this place isn't for me. This place belongs to my mum's ancient gods, which she tells 'bout occasionally." Aemon didn't want to sound like a nervous child around her. Around Arya, he could be as playful as he wanted with her, and make her laugh besides herself, but with Sansa, he felt differently. He felt as though he mustn't, given that they were similarly aged. She chuckled at him, before a step forward in the garden, and towards him.

"You aren't what I expected out a Prince. I honestly half-expected you'd look like your brother, not... like my father, If he were a much younger man." Sansa bashfully explained, staring at him. He felt a bit muffled at hearing that piece of news about her expecting him to have the Valyrian look as it was - Aegon would've been the literal golden boy, but than again, he was the golden boy wherever he went, for he was the Crown Prince, he kind of felt his smile disappear about hearing that. Aemon would've thought Egg would've spent his time In the library whilst here, considering he loved reading amongst all other things. But he knew he looked like Ned, his mother kind of sobbed that from time to time, when she wasn't crying over something. His mother was always crying over something these days, unfortunately.

"is that a bad thing, my lady Sansa?" He asked, staring at her.

"No. I like your look, you look a true Northern with that kind of iciness of your mother's House around you, you know, and besides, your a Prince, whom doesn't want a Prince?." Sansa gently smiled. It was sort of nice to hear, some girl's considered him horse-faced, like Arya, and It wasn't very pleasant to hear, considering he was of their ruling house as it was. Even his sister, Dany, said he was horse-faced with somewhat of a childish giggle on her pretty face. However, Dany didn't have eyes that he felt as though he could die in, not like Sansa's. He liked her eyes more. Her hair was nice too, it was a nice cherry red-color, and it was slightly curly, making the gentle round shape of her face beautiful to him at least. Her face was also slightly freckled, in a sort of dainty fashion as well.

"Some girls called me the Horse-faced Prince." He muttered, looking at the ground.

"Those girls be losers than." She replied. "They just don't like the Northern Dragon." She chuckled once more, staring at him. He liked her, she was pretty and nice, and not Dany, or any of those other girls that he would have married or been proposed to by his father, the King.. He knew that she was kind of the romantic sort of girl, considering she liked the tales of Davos the Dragonslayer and his many exploits, which she told him about with much enthusiasm. However, Aemon didn't know if he was as capable as Davos was, or as noble as Floran or the Rainbow Knight were - or even his own namesake. Aemon the Dragonknight, was.

"Ha." He chuckled somewhat, before he saw Robb at the corner of his eyes. He was eying the pair of them like a hawk, with those untameable blue eyes of his.

"Well, I suppose you must get going." She winked. He'd be seeing her later no doubt, which made him happy somewhat, given that he'd be spending the majority of his eight years here, until he was old enough to get back to King's Landing and such. But in all, he liked her gentle company.

"Yes, my lady." He gave her a gentle bow, before running over to Robb. They'd be practicing sword-fighting no doubt... Which thrilled him to no end, considering he'd never faced up against anyone his age besides for Aegon of whom always bested him at swords plays. And besides, he liked Robb, her earnest older brother. He was a good brother, with a good heart and was ever-so dutiful to his duties. A bit like Aegon, in some respects, but he wasn't Aegon. He very much missed his older brother, of whom was out In Dorne with their cat, Balerion. He loved that cat more than Aemon did, so father allowed him to take it with him. No doubt he was hoping he'd lose in Dorne, considering it about scratched his eyes out whenever the cat seemed to have an encounter with him, to his and Aegon's utter amusement.


	5. Ned Stark

"My Lord, King Rhaegar wishes to give some of your Lords gifts, mined from the bowels of Dragonstone, pure obsidian garnets." He frowned at the messenger, the art of making dragon glass swords was lost to them after the fall of Valyria, the Targaryen's own former homeland. What use was the material when you couldn't craft a sword out of it? He may as well it left in the ground, for all the good use it would do for them. Ned stared at the man, he was sent by the Hand considering he bore the House insigma of House Hightower, which was a grey hightower. It was said that the Hightower itself is so large that it could see to the Wall itself from how immense the building is upon it's black oily stone foundation, although Ned's never been to Old Town, it's city before, he'd heard that it was a classical and beautiful seaside city, that earned the Hightowers enough gold to be nearly as rich as the Lannisters.

"Why?" He frowned, wondering why in the bloody blazes the King would even consider him worthy of Dragonstone's cache of obsidian, the stuff Ice was made out of. Sometimes, he wondered what the King thought at all, besides for his duty to the realm. The Prince Aemon was charming, if not a bit sad, for a boy of his age, and there had been.. some unpleasant rumors about the King, that made him reconsider not speaking to his sister. He wasn't a monster, but bloody ell, he wouldn't let her be abused by the man, given that the Queen was reportedly deathly ill due to a harsh miscarriage. The boy seemed very eager to bring them together once more, by any means necessary, but Ned would likely take action at his own, if need be. Though, he did wonder if he should, considering her own lack of judgement led her down this path with Rhaegar, and she did cause a war, which killed hundreds of thousands of innocent of lives whilst she sat in a secluded tower in Dorne with her lover Prince for a full year, of whom she claimed she loved so very much, so much so she broke her promise to marry Robert Baratheon, of whom she was promised to marry, to instead marry an already married man. Indeed, he wondered if this just wasn't poetic justice for that crime of hers indeed. It actually made him very bitter, thinking about how he and Robert fought a war for her, an uncaring child, of whom cared very little for her actions.

"They, the miners and the blacksmiths alike, all told the King that would be a bad idea, but he figured that since your catchphrase is literal that he should invest in a lot of gold to go mine that shite island for all of its worth to protect the North from dem bad, no good, things from a child's story that his Majesty has apparently taken seriously." The Messenger looked annoyed, for what it was worth. He didn't blame him, not a single bit. Usually, saying bad things about the King would lead to bad results, but this man, he proposed to give him stuff within in his own realm, for some god's knows reason - most likely relating to that prophecy of his, but Ned wondered why he should believe it. The evidence behind it was purely circumstantial, and besides, that prophecy of his triggered a war, than why should he take the words out of a book as literal? He'd rather wait until there was an actual reason, like actual proof, of this supposed prophecy, not just the words out the mouth of a Red Witch or a bloody book - for books were just words, whilst words were just wind...

"What bad things does His Majesty foresee that require bloody obsidian of all things? Whilst he knows that we cannot use the metal due to the Doom of Valyria. Tell his Majesty to go find another solution rather than just give me the useless fooking stuff, or better yet, find a better solution... to whatever ails him." Ned wondered what ailed him so that he had to engage in this useless folly? This useless, expensive folly. He may as well be off finding dragon eggs, that would be a better waste of his time than pushing for that stuff, that useless, useless metal that may as well be still in the ground. If only they knew how to melt the stuff again, than maybe, maybe it wouldn't be a grand ol waste of both gold and precious metals from within the earth's soul.

"Yes, my Lord. He wouldn't be too happy to hear of this." No doubt he would, but Ned wasn't one for mincing his words to him all of people - the one that brought dishonor to his house so. The one that brought upon the flames upon his father as he was baked alive in his armor, the one that made Brandon march all the way to King's Landing to get a duel with the bloody coward, of whom didn't even bother to show up given that he was with Lyanna in that gods forsaken tower. Rhaegar, he was responsible for not taking down the Mad King when he had the chance. But, he did wonder if he'd hurt his little brother for him asking questions Rhaegar didn't like though. That could be possible - but he wasn't sure that Lyanna would allow that to happen...

Ned wondered vaguely what that foe would that be, that be so urgent that he had to drag a Hightower all the way to the North to ask this of him. It seemed an awful waste of time. He sighed, before shooing him away with the flicker of his finger. He'd go ask the King himself these questions himself, if he had too, on what he was thinking in regards to this. Because he had no idea and he wanted answers, immediately. But alas, he had a keep to watch, and besides, his little son, Prince Aemon was here, he wouldn't want him marching to King's Landing after he just arrived here anyhow.

He wouldn't let his current bias of the boy's parents get in a way of relationship with him. Besides, he got along with his children - he loved and played with Arya, and he even assumed that he was low-key teaching his daughter how to swords-fight given how she constantly hugged on him and told him that she was most pleased to have allowed him to stay here in Winterfell with the. That little girl of his, she was just as bright as a younger version of his sister, which made him sad somewhat. But regardless, he was a kind child, and he got along with all of his cousins, and was always considerate of everyone, including Hodor, and his wife, Catelyn liked him. Ned himself though, liked the boy personally, and made a point of barely mentioned his mother around him; for Ned didn't want to offend his innocent little nephew, of whom he felt didn't deserve his hatred of his parents getting in the way of a relationship between the two as it was;

As the messenger left, he saw Prince Aemon walking down the corridor, with his hands behind his back as he stared at the blonde-haired Hightower with a level of curiosity in his grey-colored eyes. Aemon had well-cut brown hair; wore a raven-colored casual suit of armor, in dyed raven colored chain-mail, of which only extended to the boy's chest area, black breaches with a cherry red belt buckles with dancing raven-colored dragons on the buckle, and a pair well-worn in travelling boots. He also wore a raven-colored cloak with the insigma of his house attached to his neck by a dancing raven-colored dragon that spewed great red-colored flames out it's individual mouth. He also wore a sword by his side, but that was proper for a boy of his age.

"Ello uncle Ned, I was off fightin' with Robb... but what was a Hightower doin' here? There a Southern House.. did my father send you any messages, or somethin'?" His grey eyes widened in disbelief. Ned sighed, besides himself at hearing that kind of shock out of the boy, as he sat in Winterfell's throne room. The chair he sat upon was above two large steps, and was covered in the hide of a grey wolf; it was made out of a weirwood tree from a long time ago, this chair. It was a strong, durable sort of chair, and Ned felt powerful sitting on the chair. The rest of the room was vast, and covered in bloody trophies; there was a great big large Direwolf head above him, and it was barring it's great claws in a snarl, as it sat on it's great wooden plank. The door leading to this room had a great silver-wolf tattooed to it's howling handal; all in all, this place was like a pack room. It had several small fireplaces and several small chairs, along with some heads of bears, deers, and other wildlife that they had caught and put on vast wooden planks, amongst other things. Ned liked seeing this throne room, it was so warm, and friendly to him, and besides, this chair was the King's of the North's seat of power. It was a honor to be seated in it. The boy looked at the chair, with sparkling interest in those bright grey-colored eyes of his.

"Yes, but you need not worry about." Ned responded, bracing himself in the chair, trying to get comfortable on it. This chair was the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat his arse upon.

"I think all you need is the Crown of the Winter Kings, and you'll look like a proper Stark King of Old, Uncle Ned." Aemon smiled, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"Your father will have my head for treason if I were to try such a thing, Aemon." That man would likely lose his mind over such a rebellion actually, now that he thought about it. And Lyanna.. He wouldn't do it for her sakes, and her sakes alone. He didn't want her to suffer anymore than she was currently suffering... He'd break her heart into a tiny thousand pieces and she'd never recover if he became a rebel lord once again, and nor did he want his children to suffer. He'd think that would make Lyanna do a terrible thing that Ned wasn't sure that he'd forgive himself for, in death at least, and besides he swore an honorable vow of fealty to the King, why would he break it anyhow? Ned was no oathbreaker of any sort; and besides, breaking vows was something his own sister and the King himself did towards their own families. Ned was no hypocrite in that regard, and he'd never be - and the idea he would disgusted him internally. He was nothing but a loyal and dutiful man, even if he hated it.

"Yes, no doubt uncle." He laughed. "I like your chair."

"As did Robert, he use to say this throne room was the ultimate hunters dream lodge and that our seat of power was made all more fearsome by the direwolf head we keep above it's crevasse. I personally like it because it reminds me of family, of honor and of the duties a leader must always preserve through, just like this chair did for thousands of years before you and I were even born. I'd like to think that was Brandon the Builders intent with his own throne room, to always remind his family that these things are important." But no, he was over-exaggerating when he said Brandon the Builder built it; indeed, the throne room and the very chair he sat upon had to be rebuilt twice after each of the burning of Winterfell made by the Boltons back in the old days when they were the Red Kings.

Aemon nodded, his face burning a bright red at the mention of Robert. He didn't say a word in the aftermath of mentioning him, but that was only reasonable given the context, Ned sighed. Mentioning either Robert, Elia, or Rhaenys in King's Landing were meant only with the coldest of silences; even colder than some of the blizzardy-like nights up in the North, and it was said that every table in the palace would grow as silent as a mute man if they mentioned them; which ended all conversations like a tropical storm destroyed properties in Essos.

He walked out. Ned smiled, leaving the bloody chair, but not after a push out of the side of one the great armrests. The chair was a hard one to get out of; but all chairs of power were uncomfortable things; including the one in the Vale. That chair, it was made out of pure silver-ore stored from within the ground of the Vale itself, and sitting on it made one's back ache feel the most uncomfortably, or so Jon Arryn claimed with one of his bright smiles. He'd never sat on it, not like Winterfell's one - which was too simply too tight for him. He wanted it's length to be extended, but than he thought that Aegon the Dragon would come roaring at him from the depths to shout at him for making his own power comfortable for his own sakes. He would no doubt be right about that.

Power was the most unconquerable thing.


	6. Rhaegar Targaryen II

"High Septon, why are the Gods so bloody cruel?" The sky was clear out to day and the sun was gently entering the large glass windows before them; as he asked his religious advisor in the Sept of Baelor, which was squeaky clean considering they just did service for some of the denizens of King's Landing; he'd note that the Septons were kindly enough towards the poor, which was good, it was in their religious duty to do service for the poor as it was. As for the High Septon himself, or The Knighly One, as he liked to call himself - he was a good listener and someone Rhaegar had at beck and call, at the very least, if he wasn't trying to be bloody cocksucker, which depended on his mood, irritated him somewhat. Honestly, he believed this High Septon would do anything he requested he do, and he meant anything. Rhaegar found that prospect to be a rather amusing one and wondered what Baelor the Blessed would think of this little development - he personally believed that Baelor wouldn't like it, that they turned the Septons into simply another branch of the government. If he knew about what happened to the Faith since his fatal decision to build the grand Sept here in King's Landing, than they'd doubtlessly still be in Old Town alongside the Maesters as they were previously hundreds of years ago.

"You must've sinned, your highness." He said feebly, clearly afraid to offend him, which Rhaegar found all the more amusing. He was right in thinking that the man had no spine, despite being an anointed Knight by the holy oils of the previous High Septon, the Fat One. It was both a blessing and a curse he was dead; for starters, the Fat One hadn't been influenced to think like his father, which is to say, insanity, given the Fat Ones reaction to knowing of the wildfire underneath the Sept itself. Rhaegar remembered him about fainting in terror upon seeing the green-coloured cache under Baelor's Sept, which he couldn't honestly blame the man for. He himself had been blowing steam from both ears when he had discovered his father's plans. He had been so bloody furious in fact, to discover his father's audacious plans for the city whilst he was away at war in the Trident, that he remembered chucking some of the Mages responsible off towers for being his father's pets and for helping him with his innate plan of blowing up the city, even though he knew they weren't truly responsible for it, he just wanted something of his father's to die horrible deaths considering their plan to help them. He needed to hold someone responsible for that wicked plan of Aerys… and it had to be someone, and so he choice the Fire Mages to pay for it with their lives.

"Yes, I've bloody sinned, you cocksucker." Rhaegar couldn't help himself but cheekily smile at the commentary. "You need not offend me, Knightly One, I'm not going to be offended, for whatever you say, It's likely I've already it said to myself before." He was tempted to sigh - he knew he left Elia and Rhaenys to die horrible, horrible deaths and not a day went by when he didn't regret his decision making. He was impulsive enough to start a war on the merits of __duty__ alone, he had hundreds of thousands of lives dripping of his hands like a bloody murderer for his decision of taking Lyanna to Dorne, and not to mention, the commoners that use to love and adore his singing choice to ignore him, and would likely spit at him if he were to go out in public without any of his King's Guard present. Or even hurt him, likely the former, given how much they rioted when he came back from the Trident relatively unscathed save for his right leg that Robert's brute hammer had hammered away on. Oh, it hurt so much just thinking on that riotous affair with the rebel scum of Robert Baratheon on the Trident - Robert's hammer had been so close to his rubied chest during one of their fights, that he was surprised he had survived the encounter with the man, but something must've happened, a slip of the hand, a miscalculation done by Robert's behest, for he ended up decapitating Robert before the nights end.

"Well, at least you're not the one whom wanted to burn down the entire city, your majesty."

"Why yes, because I'm not my father, Knightly One, and besides, I already killed those responsible for such malpractice." He shrugged. "But besides that, why do the Gods constantly punish me with wives that cannot even produce thrice children, for that's all I request out of them - nothing less, nothing more, and yet all the children I do end up having by Lyanna, my second wife, - Daeron, Jaehaerys, Vaella, and even Alysanne the last miscarriage, all end up died in the very same year that they were brought into life. I know they're all my children, because they weren't abominations to look upon, those four, and they had all Valyrian features of golden-sliver hair and lavender-coloured eyes to behold. Why am I cursed with my mother's own bloody curse? I'm loyal to my wife, I'm a good administrator, a proficient leader of my country, and yet this dread curse is upon me." The curse of infertility - was it a punishment for the Gods? Was Elia Martell watching him, judging him and sinning him for abandoning her in her time of need? Or was it just the shade of Rhaenys, the purple-eyed girl, watching him? He often thought that he was cursed, by the Gods above, for doing what he did to Elia, of whom he was sure hated him in whatever of the Heavens she was in right now.

"Because of the Rebellion, maybe. You did cause it, if you don't mind me saying so, you did run away and accurse yourself with the same curse as your father's, the curse of infidelity." The High Septon maybe had some balls after all. If he did, thatd make Rhaegar at least respect him as a man, not just as the High Septon

"The other High Septon said something similar to me, but than again he did allow me to annul my marriage to Elia..." He replied. The Fat One had no sort of morals to allow it to happen. Maybe thats why he was torn torn-apart; for the gods thought what he did to a farce upon the Holy Light of the Seven - he himself did personally see the Fat One's body though, when it came out of the mod though. He had been stampeded upon, limbs had been torn and all and all, it had been more gory mess to see. His son Aegon had vomited upon seeing it, and Aemon had passed out of disgust - but least it had not fowled Baelor's holy Septon, as it was. His body had been found outside of it actually, as though the Mod actually cared about holy places.

"I suppose that's why the Mod happened."

"Yes. I do too. But at least you are more capable of defending yourself than that soft-born, given that you use to be a Knight. He use to be some son of some lowly-born bookshop worker before he decided to be a Septon." He replied.

"Is that why you made me High Septon?"

"One of the reasons." __And your skinnier than he was when they him from limb to limb. His carcase had been so bloated when we found it.__ Rhaegar thought; they had discovered it askew some random street, and Gods, it was terrible to behold, as though it was a warning from the Gods on his own wrong-doings . They said more, but it was miniate, insignificant, given that It was all rather theoretical stuff and whatnot. The High Septon had some balls, even though he thought that was because he allowed him too, otherwise the Holy Man would be as docile as it came to whatever he said. But it didn't change, that his current position about the Gods. He actually got an idea about changing his luck, but he suppose the Holy man wouldn't approve of what he had in mind for it, and thus he didn't divulge his plan to the Knightly One. All in all, he was a good chap, if not a bit too scared of offending him.

His Queen still continued to be ill. Her fever was alarmingly high and the current Grand Maester wasn't sure if she'd survive her battle with death; he himself looked upon her, and saw nothing but death. She was very pale and sweating profoundly, and not to mention, her chambers smelled of death, even though he made sure she was bathed and dressed every day. He was unsure if her illness was related to her son being missing, but she was ill regardless. Ill enough, he had been tempted to bring back Aemon from Winterfell, but he didn't want to worry the child with her condition. Besides, he was in capable hands with Lord Eddard Stark, his uncle, as it was. Her dark hair looked limp upon her pillow, as she lay there like a sausage. The last-stillbirth had taken quite a hit on her health, and the Maester said that she might not survive it, given her condition. He sighed, sitting besides her. He had plans to get remarried after her - maybe even to a Velaryon or something, because he wanted a pure-blood looking Valyrian Prince or Princess, like Aegon, his little heir was. Besides, that bannerman of his had a pretty little Valyrian-looking daughter of six-and-ten years of age...

"Your highness, Lord Ned Stark wants to know why you want to give your ore to his bannermen." His Hightower bannermen of whom he had sent to have dealings with his frosty Warden of the North stated.

"Because I said so." Rhaegar pouted at the question sent forth by his Warden of the North. He was King, he was not to be questioned by his lower bannermen in the matter of what the Kingdom needed.

The blonde-haired man shrugged. "Yes, your highness." He'd say, before Rhaegar shooed him off with the use of his royal finger. He went scampering off like a rodent would, at least in Rhaegar's mind. The Hightowers were no doubt helpful, but they didn't care for his business as it was, considering the Hightowers were an indifferent faction of people. He did however considered them lesser than the Tyrells, and he rather liked Margaery Tyrell, his bannerman's daughter. She was beautiful, and influential, and so full of youth, indeed, he vaguely considered making her his third wife whenever Lyanna perished of her illness or such. He did kind of hoped that she'd die soon, because at least than, he'd have a better and fertile wife, to a loyal bannerman (like Velaryon or Tyrell) than the Starks, of whom were pains in the arses to him. He was so tired of them - Ned with his constant moaning about how he was wronged during Robert's Rebellion, them being the cause to why Benjen caused the Night's Watch, etc. He was tired of his cousin, Stannis, he was tired of the what the God's forsaken nobles thought about anything these days. They were but spokes on the wheel of the cart he was driving, and some day soon, his son and sister would leading the cart to whatever decision his son drove it, with the help of the Lord Paramounts of course. If only there was a way to get the pebbles out that were annoying him, to make sure that the cart continued it's trek throughout the lands - he was of need of a wrench to fix the two wheels that were acting out though, because otherwise they were in a prime condition. But regardless of that bloody analogy, they were making a riotous riot out of his rule. He didn't want to be remembered as a weak King, no, he wasn't Aerys II, he wasn't his father, he wasn't even the dour fellow his fella father was named after - Aerys I was a weak King, a weak King that was ruled through his own bloody hand.

He went off to visit his wife, of whom was still currently sickly to talk. He wanted to see her, nothing more, nothing less, and besides, what harm could it have on her as it was?

When he arrived in the Queen quarters - which smelled of death to him, he'd see her laying there on the sheets, her usually long strong copper hair lain limp, almost dead looking on her white-colored pillow. Her face was a starch white color. The court Maester was comforting her, but he supposed that she was just recovering from childbirth, another failed one at that. Her dress was of a drab grey/white color, the House Colours of House Stark, even though everything else in the room was covered in raven/red, the House colors of House Targaryen. The bed was large and conformable - he had burnt the last set of beddings and mattress on the bed, simply because it reminded him too much of Rhaella, and it smelled like her. He was always reminded of his mother when he entered the Queen's bedroom chambers, for he was extremely familiar with it, for he use to comfort her when she was sad, which was often, and he saw all of those infernal scratch marks askewer across her body, made by his god's forsaken mad man of a father. He remembered her though, her sweet warmth, her kindness, and how she use to love watching that tiny little blue ballerina of hers spin gently on it's axel, as It played it's gentle tune - he saw it sitting on the beautiful raven-coloured dresser, and sighed sadly, he'd look at it later, maybe when he was feeling particularly reminiscent. He did miss his mother - he supposed, that she was the only one out of his parents that died actually caring for him in the end, considering his father killed his daughter and Elia...

Her simple gold medallion of a crown was sitting of to the side of the bedchambers, as was her cashmere raven-colored robe, of which was made out of a leopard's skin from up North. It was sitting currently unused nearby the other chair in the room; the raven-colored rocking chair, which was nearby the currently unused fireplace of her room. Her crown was nearby her bedside, to prevent the Queen from perishing in her sleep, no doubt. He never wore his crown to bed, simply because it seemed like such an excessive thing to do. He was King, but he wasn't going to let the Crown kill him - especially in his sleep, for he was the most vulnerable in his sleep, so no, he wasn't a foolish King even though those nobles seem to think he was.

Lyanna muttered something, before holding her thrice-headed necklace in her pale hand, as she stared before him. "I use to be so healthy, so healthy.. " She sighed. Her eyes even reminded of him of Rhaella, and suddenly, he felt a great deal of guilt. He didn't mourn Rhaella publicly, no, but over the years he had started realizing the foolishness of that decision. She had been his mother, his caretaker as his father fell into madness, why didn't he just mourn her like a good son should when he had the chance? He felt like he had wronged her dearly, when he didn't, but he had been too busy feeling miserable over Elia and Rhaenys death to feel any semblance of an emotion over her death. Their deaths, now they really hurt him, so much so, than whenever Lyanna had a miscarriage he felt like he himself was personally being punched by the Gods for his sins, even though he begged them not to, they didn't listen to him though. The Gods were poor, fickle fellows with nothing but cruelty In their hearts for him, for they cursed him for his sins with countless miscarriages, even though he begged them to forgive him for abandoning Elia and Rhaenys to their doom, but they refused to hear him. He doubted that they heard his prayers anymore - they were so cruel, so very cruel in their wroth against him, that he felt his deeds of leaving Rhaenys and Elia most keenly. He wondered if that Red Witch's religion was as cruel as the Seven, or if he were just cursed to never be able to hold another little Rhaenys in his arms once again. If he were to have another child, and If it were a girl, he'd name it Rhaenys, after the little girl that never got to live her life to the fullest extent. She deserved that at least. "What happened to me, Rhaegar?" She asked, ever so gently, as he approached her on the gentle white sheet. They never use raven-colored material in the summer, not unless they wanted to burn to death, so they always choice mutual soft white sheets to use as bedding. There was an image above her head, and It told the story of Alysanne the Good and Jaehaerys I as children, running away from Maegor's ugly reach by their sliver-gold haired mother, with the help of a yellow/raven wearing deer of whom married the mother at the end of the little tale and produced two little deers for him.

"I don't know.." He felt such guilt.. over wanting her to die, but he wanted her to die somehow. It made him feel so utterly guilty, that he was going to visit the Red Witch; he often visited her at night, and she comforted his ills and woes about the world, more-so than Lyanna ever did. But would he marry her? No, that would be a scandalous affair, and thus one most unwarranted - he wanted to marry under his cruel gods, to make them happy, at least. They were likely flaming furious that he had married under a bloody tree of all things, probably, when he decided to dump his lawful marriage done under the Holy Light of the Seven to Elia Martell for Lyanna's sakes. He regretted their anger about that; but he had to convince the woman to have his child whilst believing that the child she'd have would be legitimate, and so.. he somehow got an approval from the High Septon to annul his marriage to her. "Is she feeling better Maester Ridley?" Ridley was a bastard, born from a lower classed nobleman and a whore, but yet all the same, he was a diligent, well-trained Maester; he also was in his later-thirties, a fairly young man for a Maester, but he was good at his Maester works all the same.

The ginger-haired man looked up at him, before quibbling a rather feeble maybe. "She's only twenty-five, a young woman, but alas, I fear all those miscarriages are catching up to the dear Queen, much like how it caught up to your own mother, if you don't mind me saying so, my King." He bowed again, feeling the need to impress him. But it didn't. But like a good King, he took a note of it, at the very least, and did something to at least acknowledge the gesture made by the Maester. He than shooed of the Maester with his royal finger, with a polite smile on his face. He didn't want the Maester to think he was being rude - he had a public image to keep up, even with his own Court Maester.

"Well, that's unfortunate, but that'll be all for now, Maester Ridley." He glumly responded, but the Maester took the que and left. He stared at her, dead straight into those grey eyes of her's.

"What do you plan to do to me, Rhaegar?" Lyanna whispered, fueling the nauseating guilt he already felt as it is "Kill me? Because I'm completely useless to you?" She was right. He felt guilty of thinking she had run out of her uses, as the door shut behind them with a gentle flutter. He didn't want anyone to know of this, and thus nobody would. He'd find a way to blame her death - on anyone, when ether it came naturally or through human means excluding him and so he sighed, as he sat on the chair. He wouldn't kill her, no, not now, it would be too obvious. No, he had another plan for her demise that wouldn't lead to him - it was a clean plan, and he wouldn't be blamed for the youthful Queen's death, nobody would know besides himself. He supposed he could live with it, considering he'd find himself a third wife, the one to bear his third child, the one Elia nor Lyanna could rightfully fulfil, for the two of them are both mutually infertile in nature. Elia was too weak to do this, Lyanna was simply

"I have a gift for you, so that you might feel better." He pulled out a box of Myrish chocolates he had saving for her before gently placing it on his lap, as he settled on the wooden seating that the Maester had just been previously; he had of course coated It in Lys poison, but the poison was a tasteless, odourless thing and the chocolate would cover for the poison's taste in any case. She'd die in a few days of a cough, a bit of a flu and some other minor symptoms, and nobody would suspect a thing considering the Queen is already sickly. He'd stare at the box full of chocolates; everything had been made superbly out of the twelve gently unwrapped chocolatey goodness on display; Rhaegar himself had no interest in chocolates, but he knew Lyanna adored them. So he naturally believed these to be her last feast, before her death he'd know was coming as soon as she took one bite of those chocolates. He sighed, as the light sprinkled over the box, and into his simple gold Crown - he choice to wear Aegon V's crown as his own, because he didn't want to be seen as pompous as his father, of whom donned the rather extravagant crown of Daeron II's. No, he was going to be different from his father.

Lyanna smiled before taking them from him, no questions asked, to his surprise. "Would you like to have one?" He shook his head, before gently kissing on the top of her head. She shrugged, before taking a bite out of one that was caramel/chocolate flavoured. He'd know, he read the tags before unwrapping them all individually - they were all made by a Myrish trader, one that Lyanna loved visiting. The others were an assortment of other flavors, but he figured she'd enjoy the mystery of not knowing which one she was eating as it was. That would make it all the more thrilling to her for she loved mysteries, even when she was as sick as she was.

"No, but I must go now, Lyanna. Please, enjoy your chocolates, I sincerely hopes it makes you feel better." He'd stated warmly to hide his guilt on what he just did, before stepping out of the room - no, not just stepping out, he felt his heart beating through his chest, seeing that pale woman being happy, eating her death trap chocolates just to sate his need for a girl, something that she simply couldn't give to him in the ten years they've been married. However, as for his goal currently - he wanted some advice from his red woman, some anything, he just wanted a warm, fertile woman by his side, honestly, that's all Rhaegar wanted. A dreamy notion took him that he should marry Meli when his current wife died from the poisoning he gave her, served as a pile of chocolate, but the faith...No, they wouldn't accept the marriage, so there went that plan, even if he truly wanted too, which he was a bit cynical about as it was - and besides, she wasn't even Valyrian looking. If only he had a sister to marry, Rhaegar would think dully, than none of this would be a thing - the war that costed him his reputation with the nobles, amongst other things - for It would be a for certain thing that she'd be able to produce a third head.. the one he so wanted right now.

 _I could indeed use a beta, given that I'm a fast typer (and ye I notice myself I make plenty of mistakes within my own writings, lol, when I'm reading through it and I use Google Docs to flush out all the spelling errors with it, lol.)_

 _As for everything else you say, ye Rhaegar's really blind when it comes to his precious prophecy. He's like Nero in a sense (in that he plays a fiddle and lets the world burn as he does so). And as for the thing with Ned, you've just given me an idea on what to do, thank chu so much._


	7. Aemon Targaryen & Aegon Targaryen

In the wake of the Queen's death - most presume it's due to childbirth - Prince Aemon is brought back to court to grieve alongside his father, of whom put on a large display of grief towards the Queen. Prince Aegon refused to come when summoned, and so is still in Dorne alongside his other family members.

Aemon Targaryen,

Aemon stared at her body with a sigh, as he watched the Silent Sisters - all of whom were dressed in soft white cloaks, surrounded the Queen's rather robust body. She had been getting fatter in more recent years, Aemon would think, considering she use to be skinny, until father put all of those babies in her stomach, than she begun to blossom with weight. He actually remembered playing with one of those failed siblings of his, before they died in their cribs though, he believed her name was Vaella, and she had looked exactly like their father, with having a tiny sliver-gold head and deep purple eyes - it was only misfortunate that led to her dismay, because he remembered sticking his little hand into her crib to make her laugh as a boy, only a mere tod at that, and her laughing as he tickled her in her crib made him feel very warm in the inside. However, he remembered being kicked out of the nursery after that little encounter with the baby. Aegon never not once visited their new siblings In preference of brooding about with Balerion, or playing games with Daenerys. He himself, he always sat out of such games in preference for reading a good book, or sword-playing with Jason Lannister, the current third in line for Casterly Rock. It had taken him some time to befriend Jason, but when he did, the boy was such a joy to play with - he was a thrill-seeker, a adventurer like him, and as fearless as his House Insigma, but unfortunately, Jaime pulled him back to Casterly Rock to assume his Lordly training under Tywin's watch, no doubt. Aemon sometimes missed Jason, even more than Robb, even though he liked Robb, it wasn't simply the same with him.

He wanted to hold his mother's soft hand, stare into her eyes once last time at the least, before she was taken away under Baelor's Sept to be buried there. The King forbade her to be burned it in the traditional Targaryen fashion, given that not what she would've wanted, and thus she was to be buried under the sept in a traditional fashion. Lord Stark didn't want her remains in Winterfell - a thing he found so very cruel, given that was her home and her place where a Stark of Winterfell should be buried to be closer to their ancestors, this cathedral wasn't, and nor would it ever be her place, but father didn't care about this, as he buried her next to the ashes of his own ancestors rather next to her own. He had cried when he heard that, and told his uncle Ned that he was so very cruel not to allow It to happen because she like him, was a Stark of Winterfell, and her place was with her ancestors and gods, at least buried underneath the large weirwood tree of Winterfell, but he refused him even still. He wondered if Ned Stark would be extra taxed for his insolence on the matter on the Queen's remains, given how Rhaegar's already raised the tax on both the North and the Stormlands more than one occasion, but neither stopped being an inconvenience to the Crown, which was making his father furious that putting both houses in debt wasn't working to give them to stop them grumbling and complaining to him. Dorne was fine, if not wanting a bit more war over Princess Elia's rather poor treatment done by his father. Rhaegar was rather paranoid about that situation in Dorne, but since Crown Prince Aegon was there under the protection and foster ship of Doran, of whom was the Prince's uncle, his father seemly was more keen to leave Dorne in peace rather than do anything further about the situation.

"She was a fine woman, when she was still alive, that is." He heard the voice of Jon Connington, his father's Hand, entering the complex. He was being escorted by Lynesse Hightower, his wife, and Arthur Connington, his son. Lynesse was dressed in an expensive looking fitted red/white myrish dress, her face was done In makeup, her golden-locks were placed in bun with a red-colored pin holding her hair together in it's current configuration. She was holding her son with an iron grasp, or at least it looked she was. Her blue eyes were appeared to be as cold as ice to him at least. Her son looked like Jon, with having his ginger-colored hair and light blue eyes though, and he was dressed rather modestly in comparison to his mother. He wore slacks, a pair of well-worn out, but clean, running boots, a red-colored/white colored shirt with the Griffin of his House was tattooed to it. He also wore a clipped on griffin medallion which attached to his white/red checkered cloak he wore. Jon dressed rather similarily to his son. He wondered were his eldest child, Jeyne was, or was she with Renly Baratheon? Renly was rather fond of his fiancée, it was said, but Aemon didn't care, given that it would be another few years before Jeyne was eligible for marriage. She was about his age, even a bit younger than himself really, being about nine years old whilst Lord Renly was ten-and-six years old, a nearly seven year difference, which he thought was a great sum of a difference. "A fine woman, even though, admittedly I didn't think so at first, but she grew on me in time." He said, in a voice of actual real melancholy, which surprised him. Jon Connington had never seemed to like his mother until this point in time, actually, he had been rather icy around his mother...

"What suddenly made you change your mind about my mother, Lord Connington? I've never heard you say anything positive about my mother until now." Aemon couldn't help but be defensive over her, even whilst she was dead and rotting away visibly. Her flesh was becoming a blue colour, and she was reeking of something Gods awful, but Aemon would not settle down from his position nearby her. She was his mother, and they'd have to fight him off of her, if they wanted him off. Beside, she was so lovely looking, even in death. Nothing would shake Aemon of this mindset, not even the corpse itself, of whom he was sure was deteriorating given the nauseating smell coming from her, and how she was smiling, which made Aemon feel awkward. Was she more happy in death than in life? He'd wonder, staring at her increasing curving-upwards smile.

"Shush Aemon." Rhaegar gave him such a chilling look that he settled down. "Welcome Jon, I hope your lands are well and prosperous by the will of the Seven." He gave Jon Connington a small smile before he joined them. Aemon would think that the relationship between the two had been rather shattered since he met that Red Witch of his. Aemon did actually believe sadly that they had indeed been sleeping together, the red witch and his father, given how he went to her to advice at night whilst pretending to be a devout worshipper of the Seven during the day hours. Jon Connington knew of it too, and thus that's why he likely hated the red witch more so than he himself did.

"They are." He responded, side-glancing at Lynesse. He had heard that Lynesse had been rather mismanaging Griffin's Roasts newly obtained lands after he left her in charge of the Keep and all of it's funds, and how she kept on squandering it to get rich clothing and luxurious ride to Old Town. It apparently annoyed the Hand so much, that he left her on a budget to prevent her money-squandering ways from bankrupting them. It was also reported that she had nearly caused a peasant uprising due to her increasing taxes to juice them for all that it was worth, for her own gain. "I have come here to pay my respects to the newly deceased Queen with a pound of blue roses my good father paid for. I know how much she likes them, and besides, if Ned Stark wouldn't pay his respects to his own sister, I may as well for him." He'd see pots of the blue roses come in by some lackies the Hightowers no doubt paid for; and since the roses were from the Wall up North, they had to export them down South. He sighed, he hated seeing those flowers, they were everywhere in the Queen's Quarters, and they had a constant reminder of his mother's failings. She had told him about how Robert's Rebellion started - with her, a naïve girl, running of with Rhaegar the handsome Prince, after the tourney of Harrenhal where he crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty in place of Elia Martell, his brothers mother. He knew how Elia Martell herself had responded to this humiliation, with her punching Rhaegar in his teeth for it. He felt so lonely and sad that it had been his fault that Brandon and Rickard Stark had died at the hands of his innately mad grandfather, and that the entirety of Robert's Rebellion had been fought to begin with had been for his birth, that he felt he could do nothing but be helpless in this regard, which made him feel very melonachy-filled at times and also hateful towards his father for making him feel so utterly powerless. The only reason for his existence had caused a war to erupt across Westeros, and all because his father had wanted a third-head to his other two supposed dragon riders, a very narrow goal, but regardless, Elia couldn't give the last head to his three dragons to him, due to her being infertile as a result of Aegon's birth, and so his father had moved to Lyanna to obtain his goal from her womb.. It made feel not feel to well towards his father, actually, because he was suppose to be better than that, better than someone that would just start a war for god's knows what reason - but he did indeed blame Rhaegar for any and all negative attention he'd get as a result of this action of his.

"I hate those flowers." Aemon softly muttered, staring at those that carried in the flowers. "All they remind me is that mother made her poor choice because she was given those bloody flowers." He muttered, thinking about how excited she said she was when she was given them by Rhaegar. He felt a bit disgruntled knowing all of this, and he didn't worship Rhaegar for it. He didn't want to be like Rhaegar, completely obsessed about one thing to the point of literal and utter madness over it, now would he?

"Wow, aren't you so very grateful for being born?" Rhaegar about sneered. "Without that supposed _mistake_ done by myself and your mother, you wouldn't be here to complain to me about it."

"You started a war over my birth and you expect me to be grateful over it?" Aemon wondered why he should be thankful about that, considering forever anything he did would be scrutinized highly due to the failings of his mother and father. Rhaegar did indeed sneer, before taking him by his hand and escorting him of the sept forcefully, to avoid letting anyone seeing the debate between the two, or to punish him. Most likely the former, given how aggressive his handle on Aemon's shoulders were.

"I do not need lecturing by my own son on things, especially in public, that's completely out of bounds for you." Rhaegar responded, getting to his level and staring into his eyes.

"So I was right... you did start a war. Blimey, well when Aegon finds about this, you'll lose all of his respect." Aemon stated defiantly, staring right back at him. "My mum is dead, I'm not scared of you, father. You did a rotten thing to Elia, Aegon's mum, with what you did to her at that bloody tourney. My mum told me all about it, and she said she regretted it, all of it. Because it made her look a common _whore_.." Aemon believed now that he was crying, given that he couldn't see anything and his voice sounded so very course there at the end. "And everyone calls her that.. Something she doesn't deserve, _my_ mother's no whore. She... was misled, but she's not a whore... I want my mum's name to be cleared in the eyes of Ned Stark, of everyone whom her considers that, I want her to be known as something good and positive, but Aegon's not likely gonna let it happen. He hates her, like the rest of them." He whimpered, knowing his brother's feelings on the matter - he didn't call her a whore, no, but he didn't consider her his mother though and there had always been a distant between them. He hated her when he found out what she did from Arianne and the Sand Snakes and Aemon was so dreadfully afraid that he blamed him for it, even though he had only been a baby at the time. But Aegon didn't, he only blamed Rhaegar and Lyanna for his mum's and sister's death at the hands of the Mad King. They could've stopped it, had they been at the Red Keep at the time. But no.. they were off having him at the Tower of Joy in Dorne.

"If we weren't in public right now, you've be feeling the full force of my wrath, Aemon, you understand me." His father whispered in his ear, making sure that nobody could hear him speak. "You disrupted the funeral proceedings for your mother with your poor, childish behaviour, which is completely unacceptable. If you cannot have good behaviour, like a good Prince, than I best send you back to the Red Keep to let you think on your poor behaviour out in public, for it makes a fool out of our family." He signalled to his guards to take Aemon away. Aemon supposed he deserved it - but he wouldn't let it kill him, no, Aegon never cried. Never, he was always so strong, but he never saw Aegon cry out in public, like he was doing. He couldn't help it, he felt like he was drowning in sorrow - of course he'd remember his mother, her spirit with him was that of the old headstrong Lyanna, not the farce spirt that was named Lyanna and was only but a plaything for Rhaegar. He missed her so much, and looking at her remains made him feel so, so very heavy-hearted and extremely mournful - it hurt him, to know he'd never be able to feel her warmth rocking him to sleep again, or stare into her eyes that looked so very much like his own. Never again, and the fact that she was going to her death hated by folks really hurt him inertly more.

As he walked back to the Red Keep, with guards side by side by him as his guardians, he kept on swiping away at the tears, but they were fast-coming and hard to rid of, as they rolled hard and strong down his cheeks. He felt humiliated that everyone knew that their second-in line to the Iron Throne was currently crying besides, and shuddering as he did so, down the street leading to King's Landing. He felt it was hard to breath, knowing that she was dead and never coming back. He never once looked back at his father's facial expression, for fear on how truly cruel the glance would be. He kept on forward, no brother to support him right now, in her dire time of need, but only himself now - Aegon would comfort him, he'd know, but Aegon wouldn't feel as grieved as he felt about Lyanna's death. He doubted anyone did - he felt like he was truly the sadness little boy in the entire world, but he hoped he'd be able to comfort himself when he got back to the capital, to his warm, comfortable room In the boy's lodge. It was said that he slept in Aegon V's room, whilst Aegon himself slept in Aerion room, a rather discomforting thought at that, or so Aegon himself said, he also said that he'd never throw Balerion down a well nor threaten to eunuch him whilst he slept. He felt greatly relieved, or maybe that was just the sounds of himself quieting down more so because he was felt slightly better thinking of funny thoughts like that.

He saw Daenerys walking towards him - she was dressed in a soft raven-colored dress that fell lightly to her ankles, a pair of raven-colored boots, and her hair was tucked away in a braid. She had deep purple eyes, a delicate heart-shaped face, and an aquiline nose like the Arryns had, and she smiling somewhat sadly at him. She hadn't joined the funeral proceedings, but she was here now, and he'd take her over anyone, given that Aegon wasn't available right now - he did think of her as a sister anyhow, even if he knew she was Aegon's fiancée. He hugged her, comforting himself on her warm, soft shoulder, as she held him, before she slowly started escorting him back to the Red Keep.

"I'm sorry Aemon..." Dany muttered softly. Dany was very pretty to him - it was undeniable, she was very charming, warm-hearted, and charismatic and had a very pretty face to look at, but she was only family of all things. It wasn't that he was against loving family in a romantic kind of way, but he was very much against taking another man's fiancée, like what his father did to Robert Baratheon, when he took his own mother away to the Tower of Joy in Dorne. "Egg would usually make some kind of shitty joke to try and make you feel better, but alas I'm not Egg, so I only offer myself as company." She responded with a smirk, although it was a smile rather short of length.

"I rather enjoy your company." He stated, rather weakly as the pair walked up the long so-called Dragon stairs to Aegon's High Hill, and to the Red Keep.

"When I heard that your mother died, I just had to immediately walked from the Red Keep to find you, because I would assume you aren't feeling well, are you? I know it must feel shitty, but I assure you, it'll get better... I hope at least." She responded titling her head. She wasn't smiling anymore, just making conversation to make sure that his heart didn't feel like complete and utter shite, like It did right now. He loved Dany for trying to help him though in the currently overwhelming grief he felt right now by simply walking and talking with him. That made him feel very nice, indeed, to know he wasn't alone in the world, given how Rhaegar treated him when he saw his current state of mind. All he did was send him back to the Keep, for misbehaving, which he likely was doing. He also noted he had stopped crying considering the tears had stopped falling from his cheeks, but he still felt as though he was crying, burning, in the insides of him. But nevertheless, her company had relieved at least some pains.

"No, Dany, I'm not. But I'm glad that I'm not doing this trek alone." He responded. The two of them spent the rest of the time talking, as they walked up the pier together, until finally he got to his own room in the Red Keep to which he said goodbye to Daenerys. In there, In the privacy of his own room, he comforted himself on his pillow, he begun deeply sobbing about his mother, the one whom he had lost far too soon for his own good. He kept on biting on his pillow to prevent anyone from hearing him sobbing away in his room, and thus far, it had been rather successful given how nobody had checked up on him thus far, to his eternal belief. No Rhaegar visit to lecture him on his behaviour in the sept, no nobody, everyone left him to his current devices. He thanked the seven, until he found himself falling asleep due to crying so much, that he couldn't simply stay awake any longer. So soon after, he laid on the comfortable mattress, his eyes closed and he was dreaming deeply, of better things, like riding a pair of scaly dragons with Aegon in tow - even though he believed he kept on dreaming of shades of his mother, for every once in awhile another dragon rider would ride besides him, donning her leathery armour and chainmail was attached to the centre piece in the middle of the outfit, her riding gear, her deep grey eyes were so full of fire and ferocity, her hair was flowing healthy and strong once again. She looked so healthy, glowing even, yet she whispered to him, In his sleep upon her raven-coloured beast that she road so fast, so fast to catch up to him in the clouds, _I love you..._ before he woke up to know that she was dead, dead... and he was never getting her back.

Aegon,

"So my step-mother had died, Doran." Aegon thought about what his brother must've thought of it, given that it was his mother. Aegon assumed he wouldn't be taking to it too well, and felt a great deal of sorrow for him in that regards - losing a loved one was tough. The two of them sat nearby a water hole with a fan covering Doran's head. Aegon never got sunburns, not ever, and he believed it was because he had the blood of dragons running through his veins. Aegon looked down the water pipe to see the deep, dark underwater water running through the pipes. They were out in the desert somewhere, but close enough to Sunspear to return if necessary, they were just looking at where Sunspear would be located next on it's exodus. He considered Sunspear to be a nomad city if there ever was one in Westeros, given how it moved every year or so in it's seemly never-ending search for fresh underwater tunnels like the one they were at currently, a prospect he found most interesting. He also was wearing sandals, a large-brimmed hat like the one Aegon V wore when he was pretending to be a simple country-boy named Egg, and had no shirt on. Although everyone could see his shoulder-length sliver-gold hair though, and those lavender-coloured eyes he had. He believed if he wore blue he could disguise his eyes to looking like a deep blue colour, at the very least.

"Yes, I've heard." Doran responded, continuing to sit where he sat due to the gout. His gout wasn't bad, but not was it a terribly good thing anyhow, he could still walk, if not very slowly, but most of the time people had to escort him around everywhere. He felt kind of bad for them, given how airy and humid Dorne is, even though Aegon felt as though he was mad enough to go walking barefooted in the wickedly hot sand surrounding them. He had always liked hot things, and even at one point, he had bathed in something wickedly above temperature, just because he wanted to. It didn't burn a single hair on his skin though, and felt rather nice actually, even though everyone had called him mad for it. "How do you feel about it, nephew?" He wondered, staring at him. Doran was likely assuming that he was rather feeling sordid over her death.. but he didn't, which made him feel slightly guilty.

"I feel bad for Aemon - my own feelings are of no consequence when it comes to my family's feelings, I may have not liked her, but Aemon's my brother, even though we don't share the same mother." Aegon had known Aemon for years for nearly his entire life, actually now that he thought about it, he didn't remember living any of his life without him around. He felt that Aemon felt a great deal of pain, and he felt sorrow he wasn't there to comfort him, but he wanted to continue studying under Doran and not see his father. His opinion on Rhaegar was very low, to be blunt, he didn't want to see the man that had betrayed his mother so. Not to mention, he could've prevented it, if only he had been in King's Landing like a proper Prince should be to his wife. But no, he forgot he annulled the marriage to his mother and made a bunch of jolly fools out of Dorne, given that he did it in their very same homeland right underneath their noses. That kind of thing was unforgettable in itself.

"That's very mature of you, Aegon. You are truly you're mother's son, always look out for your family rather than for yourself. She did the same you know,.. to you and Rhaenys, when she was still with us, that is." He sighed, as the two movers moved him along the desert, he had named them Right and Left for they always appeared on the left and right side of Doran - they, all four of them, were currently going back to Sunspear after discovering the well for that was their intent to be out here in the pissing boiling hot sun to begin with. He had just helped with the search, because of Aegon's ability to remain unburnt in any levels of hotness. It was such a Gods given blessing, he loved it. Aemon however, he had no such ability, but he could within stand any level of coldness, supposedly due to his own Northern blood.

He grimaced at the mention of his mother. "Thanks I guess." He muttered. "Someday, when I become King, I just want my House to recover it's reputation as being dutiful stewards of Westeros, that are dependable and loyal to the subjects we rules over. I don't want any more broken bethronals done to insult the Great Houses, annulments, or any oathbreaking, I just want to rule over some measure of peace, and if I have to put aside my personal feelings on things in order to be more effective at ruling, than so be it." He shrugged - he truly, didn't want any of those things. His father himself had actually threatened to exile and disown him if he didn't marry Daenerys and vice-versa, in general, he expected he'd marry her, which was fine. He didn't have anyone else to marry since Arianne started casually courting Viserys, his uncle, given that they were both the same age, and besides, all of the other available girls his ages were either bastards - the sandsnakes - which he had no interest In, for a King to marry a bastard would be repugnant, or they were that one Dayne girl named Allyria... Bloody 'ell, he thought about Allyria sometimes, because she was so beautiful, with her soft light-blonde coloured hair and periwinkle colored eyes. Truly, he really did like her, but he thought about what his father thought on the matter, which quickly put an end to that. But anyhow, he still liked Allyria, she kind of reminded him of Dany personality wise - dutiful, sweet, brave, and most importantly took no shite from anyone, all traits he admired in a girl, besides for her own natural prettiness. Sometimes he believed it to be a real shame that Rhaegar had forced a marriage on him, and that there was no shaking it off anytime soon, given how determined he seemed to feel about blood purity and what not, which bore Aegon to pieces.

Doran smiled, giving him a nod. "It would appear you've been listening to me when I've spoken to you what Kingly ship entails, instead of listening to your uncle." Oberyn was funny, in a sort of violent way, in which he wanted to physically attack and murder his Kingly father... Yeah, his father was right in the way he shouldn't contract any of Oberyn's habits - which included whoring, drinking and having a boiling hot temperament. They weren't habits Aegon wanted anyhow, they didn't need another Aegon the Unworthy or Aegon the Soiled King, or any number of names for a whoremongreling king like Aegon IV. No, Aegon was trying to be as a worthy ruler, like Daeron II the Good of whom got married to a Princess of Dorne for the good of the Seven Kingdoms for he united them under one banner in one swoop. Daenerys, his fiancée's namesake, had also helped in the restoration of Dorne via by marrying the current Prince of Dorne. He was related to both, the original Daenerys and the Dornish Princess that Daeron II had made his Queen, through his mother's line, which was nice to know.

He nodded briefly at Doran, as the posse continued walking across the various sand dunes to get to the ever-moving shank city once again. Aegon was carrying a stick to kill any of the pesty snakes that Oberyn hadn't milked of their venom yet. He wasn't afraid to use his stick against those bloody sand dunes snakes that attacked at random under the cover of sand. "I don't know why people think all Dornishmen are hot-tempered and adulterous sort of people, given how both you and Elia turned out." Aegon disliked that stereotype immensely, it made him a bit angry even, ironically. Than again, they all had their stereotypes - the Stormlanders were a loud, robust people of whom were well known for bar-fighting on their best of days, the Westerlanders were a bunch of rich prinks that swam in liquid gold and they shate gold, the Northerners were a moody, distanst people that pretended futility that they weren't a part of the rest of the other Kingdoms, those that dwell In the Reach were a bunch untrustworthy farmers with an ear for gossip and a tongue for spreading farce hoods, the Valemen are a bunch of stuck-up Knights, and the Kinglanders are the prissy sort of unstarts that would kiss and shine the King's boots to the very ground he treaded upon whenever he passed through their holdfasts on a visit.

"Those people that say that doth know the heart of a true Dornishmen, my boy." Doran responded with a level of ease. They'd be getting back to the city soon enough, given how he could almost smell the life scent of fresh squid caught alongside the riverside, or he could almost see the snake dancers and singers, singing and dancing away to smooth a cobra from striking them. He enjoyed watching such shows - in King's Landing, they had people doing flaming swords tricks, which he enjoyed watching. They also had people playing with flames, a dangerous habit for sure, but he... couldn't help but watch the flames, be blown back and forth on the tip of a torch. He thought that was surely unhealthy to find such a thing fascinating, given his own grandfathers obsession with inflammable objects, but he couldn't help himself which worried him to no end. He didn't want to be remembered as mad, or delusional, like his own grandfather was. But than again, the ills of madness ran in their blood, as inseparable from them as their genius sides, or their zealot sides, in fact, their madness was simply another side to a never-ending flip of a coin. He hoped he himself landed on the sane side when he begun his rule as King Aegon VI, Sixth of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar, and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Realm. He knew all of those titles by heart, given that someday they'd be his own titles.

Aegon agreed with his uncle on this, as they came into the city's ground, which jammed packed of people - everyone liked him in Dorne and knew of his name, Prince Aegon, son of Princess Elia Nympheros Martell, the last child of the Princess before her flaming death... Er, that was another reason Aegon found it odd he liked fire, because his mother and sister had been left a pile of dust In the Throne Room by a douse of Wildfire and another douse of madness by Aerys II. As the Prince of Dorne with him, everyone had to pave away for the Prince, of whom constantly sat in a chair due to his horrendously bad gout he had. Aegon believed he was immune to gout, red spots or whatever it was called, due to the super special blood that he possessed, but he also could be wrong on this, given that over-confidence could murder someone.


	8. Aegon II and Rhaegar III

In the year since Queen Lyanna's death, King Rhaegar had remarried for a third time, but this time it was to a member of House Velaryon The Lady is soon to be the third Velayrion Queen Consort to sit on the Iron Throne alongside a Targaryen King. Also; in that time since Lyanna's death in 293 AC, Rhaegar had to unplug the drain on the rebellious fishermen Lord Balon Greyjoy, of whom declared himself King of the Iron Isels, which had resulted in the Lord's subsequent death and defeat at Rhaegar's hands; also his last son, the little Lord Theon Greyjoy, current Lord of Pyke and the Iron Isles, was taken into custody by Mace Tyrell and his men in the aftermath of Balon's failed rebellion; also, reports of a stirring Wilding populous up North has stirred up the Lord of Winterfell so much, that he has decided to unite the North with the marriage contract between his youngest daughter, Arya, to Domeric Bolton, the heir of the Dreadfort.

Rhaegar Targaryen,

"So, I'm to be Queen Alysanne Velayron - or Targaryen if you'd prefer, the third Velaryon Queen to sit with a Targaryen King on the Iron Throne as a Queen Consort, besides for Daenera and Alyssa before me, with you my most handsome husband." The girl was beautiful, with shimmering sliver-gold locks that rippled off of her back and violet colored eyes. She was dressed in a bright cheery emerald green gown - made from a sort of myrish material, with some lace and satin in the trimmings of it. Her eyes were shinning brightly with excitement, as she brushed his shoulders with her delicate hands, as he sat on a stool staring at her. She was nearly half-a decade younger than him, with her being seven-and-ten whilst he himself was only thirty-and-three years old, not very old - no, he was no Walder Frey, despite what others thought of him for marrying such a youthful woman. She was so undeniably young in her appearance too, but also so very Valyrian, with her cute little aquiline nose and her large, intelligent eyes, and not to mention, her lack of blemishes of age or stretch marks from giving birth, no wrinkles, no, just a plain, youthful face. He put his hand around her soft milky white cheeks, which made her jump and smile besides herself, as she put one of her hands on it.

"I didn't marry you because of the history between our two houses, Alysanne. I married you because your a pure blooded Valyrian, and besides, your young, and presumably fertile." Rhaegar knew about their history, but decided he cared nought a single fog about it, given that most of what happened took place over hundreds of years ago. Like their wealth, it would seem. House Velaryon wasn't a very wealth house these days, even though he knew Corlys Velyaron had once enough gold to ounce the Lion Lords of Casterly Rock and the Hightowers of Hightower, but with his great gold, he decided he'd build a bloody, useless castle with it. The current Velaryon's didn't live in it, of course, no they went back to Drifmark, and gave the castle that Corlys built to a second son of whomever Baela Targaryen married. He knew it was to a Velaryon Lord, but he didn't know to which one it was - he believed it was the one Eleana Targaryen loved and produced two baseborns with, though. Rhaegar supposed he should check up on the family history between the two, given that he himself use to a Prince of Dragonstone, but than he thought about that one bastard of a Velaryon he had to cast out of his court due to being one of his bloody father's supporters, and found himself feeling strangely affronted with them.

"I know, my King." She bowed, her eyes glowing. "I cannot wait to give you a little child, even though I know Prince Aemon hates me." She slumped, dejected into his arms. He knew he wasn't suppose to touch her, not like that, not before the wedding and the bedding ceremony, but this woman was a little minx, with her soft, smooth against his, and the weight of her emerald gown against him make him. "Can you find a way to make him hate me less? I think he thinks I'm stealing his late mother's post, with me marrying you and you making me a custom made crown and all of that. I don't want to hurt my future little son's feelings, and besides, Crown Prince Aegon likes me. He says I'm very kind and Is very accommodating of me, like the little gallant Ser Knight he is. I like him." She smiled brightly, as she stared into his eyes. Her eyes were a soft violet colour, full of warmth and vibrancy, he liked looking into them; none of his past wives have had those Valyrian features, and it was truly an enchanting thing for him to see. Though he didn't marry her out of love, he believed he could fall right into those eyes of her's and have no regrets about doing so. Her face was delicate; a heart-shaped face it was, and her hair was wavy, curly, but it fell down her back like a waterfall, which made her all the more alluring and enchanting to look upon. She also smelled rather distinctively of rosemary shampoo and salt water, as she nestled herself into his arms, something he didn't exactly reject, given what a utterly wonderful view he was getting of her breasts. He knew that was a somewhat perverted and unholy thought, but he hadn't been with a healthy hearty woman in years - but nor really with any woman, now that he thought about it, he had stopped bedding Lyanna many years prior to her death and had left her to her own devices, so to see his fiancée's good health genuinely made him pleased to say in the least.

"Eh, I'd give him a break, it's been a year since he lost his mother." He shrugged. Aemon had become rather hot-headed as a of late, to anyone that he met, which was unfortunate. He believed Aemon to be better than that - but he also seemed to be developing somewhat of a crush on Sansa Stark, Lord Ned Stark's girl. He wasn't sure if Ned would be pleased to hear of this development or not, given their rather tumorous history. He hoped that Sansa was at least good enough to temper him down a few notches, if she liked him back, at the very least.

"Oh, I know I just don't want him to think that I'm.. uh taking her place, that's not my intent." She sighed, twirling her golden-sliver locks in her hair. He noted that she also had full, but naturally red-coloured, lips, her cheeks were also covered in a soft dust of freckles, and her eyelashes were naturally raven-coloured, indeed he'd think that she was a natural beauty. He could see her rather robust breasts popping out of her emerald coloured corset - she was indeed, good material for childbearing, for her hips were wide in proposition and he could image that she could hold milk in her breasts fairly well. "I want to be your diplomat, your tongue, per say around the Kingdom, like a good Queen Consort, like my own namesake of whom flew to the Wall to greet the Black Brothers surely because of her own good will." She smiled, poking her pink tongue at him as she did so, but she was rather cute in his opinion. She may have been physically beautifully, but inside she was as naïve as a child. Did Jacaerys Valaryon - her Lordly Father - or even Saera Maegyr, her noble mother from Voltanis, - teach her how diplomacy truly worked in the Seven Kingdoms? He knew that due her to being of a lower Noble House, that it would be almost impossible for her to get the approval of the other noble houses, not unless she was very charismatic and knew how to speak certain words to the Lords, than it would be highly unlikely that she'd be taken seriously by them, even being married to the King himself.

"Don't bother on that, I'll send Jon to do anything diplomatic." He sighed, "You aren't as hated as Lyanna was, but your of a very insignificant House. Nobody will take you seriously, not unless your brother finds a pot of gold." If only he were Corlys, but Monfryd wasn't a adventurous fellow, no he was only but a lowly steward. A rather unadventurous one at that of whom took comfort in sitting in Driftwood for the rest of his days with his Celtiagar wife. He may have been a through and very dutiful Master of Ships, but he was a boring fella, Rhaegar believed, a boring fella that only left Driftwood in a search for food via through fishing for it, or when he himself summoned the Lord of the Waves to come to King's Landing for whatever reason. His own impression of him was that he was a very determined, strong-willed and sometimes even a rash fella, but those traits didn't make him any less uninteresting to Rhaegar. He was also very loyal and dutiful, which were also fairly decent traits to have. Rhaegar was friends with his father, before he perished under the Summerset seas in a tropical storm - her lordly father, Jacaerys, of whom Rhaegar had considered to be a good man with a brave heart and it was a shame that he had been lost at sea.

"Monfyrd wants to make us wealthy once more, like our father, but.. I'm not so sure about that, we need a lot of gold to bring back all of those trading towns that slowly departed to King's Landing due to it being a better location to trade in - for sure, it's much safer to trade here, your were once Prince of Dragonstone, you remember those pirates from Lys that kept on pillaging us due to our limited man supply? They drove them away, so much for the boost in economy brought in by my ancestor, Corlys. I'm sure he'd think my brother was a nitwit for not wanting to explore." She sighed - it had a been a curse of her family actually, ever since the man died, that many Lords of the Waves had died in their fruitless pursuit of the same flow of gold. He'd know, all Velaryon spoke of was getting back the gold that had long since been lost to his family. It seemed like a fable, this tale of gold over a rainbow, to him at the very least. Celtigar was too busy getting drunk on wine to give one damn about gold like Velaryon did; the other little Lords of Dragonstone, he remembered, were a preachy zealot, given their House Insigma was of the Seven stars crossed; another was an embittered man from Bar Emmon that seemed to support his father in his crusade against him like that Velaryon traitor did. However, Rhaegar considered those islands to be piss poor, as he had to work on a very tight budget from his Kingly father, until he even took that away at the end of his term, no doubt due to paranoia.

"Those islands be piss poor even if you had those ancient fundings." He shrugged, indifferently, it was the truth of the matter. "But anyhow, I cannot wait until you produce my thrice and last head." _Or more than that.._ He'd think - the last Verayon Queen had five children, she could have more than just one child from him, even though he thought about the Dance of Dragons. His elder sons would be alright, given that they came from much more wealthier and greater Houses than House Velaryon, right? But no, he wouldn't do that to them, or more like to Aegon that is - Aegon needed to rule without so much as competition for the Iron Throne, disregarding Aemon, of whom he hoped didn't rise up and fight against his own blood and kin for the Iron Throne. That was a no go, but alas, he'd require one child out of her - it would be enough to sate the prophecy of what it wanted truly wanted - thrice heads. One from House Martell, the sun burns bright in Aegon's future he'd think almost with a chuckle, and another from House Stark, winter is coming and Aemon shall ride the waves of snow when it falls on Westeros, and this one, from Alysanne's womb, would come from the laidback fishermen of Dragonstone and the lands surrounding the providence. He hoped whomever it was, it was a girl, a sliver-haired girl to look nice alongside Daenerys as she wore their mother's helm upon her head, as Aegon wore whatever crown he wore, as the two sat on the Iron Throne together, an mental image he found absolutely delightful; he also imaged the little one Alysanne bore would be wedded to Aemon when she came of age, whenever that was, and the two would rule over Summerhall, and all would be well in the Summerset Kingdom as the Essosi called it. The prophecy that had been foretold by Aerys I would be fulfilled by his son Aegon, the song of Ice and Fire, of which was Aegon's song to sing when he was older & a king in his own right and of course when he was ready to club the heads of the icy bastards threatening the lands of Westeros with his trusted blade Dark Sister. He'd find it when he was done searching for Dragon Eggs; the other project was forgotten, for now at least. It was a futile project in the end he'd suppose and thus he halted the mining, to find something more worthy of his time.

She smiled, although a bit shyly. "I will do anything my King demands of me." He'd also note that she had sparkling white teeth, a rarity, but he supposed that she must have good genetics to allow it to look like that. Most of the men he met had some rotten teeth or another, no doubt due to poor hygiene, but she had such sparkling pearly white teeth, and in prefect order too, that it was almost unbelievable. He himself, he got some very minor teeth problems, but that was another thing entirely.

"Good woman. You know, your a magnetically attractive woman, Alysanne _Velaryon_ ." He had to say it, he felt like he spent enough time gawking at her. He never really gawked at his other wives - well, not with Elia. He never did this with her, even though she was wonderful in different ways, even though most men would think that Elia was a wonderfully exotic kind of beauty, he never saw it. He saw her as very helpful administer and assistant while he went on strolls across the countryside with Author Dayne and his co, which he did quite often. Often enough not to see Elia nor Rhaenys very much, nor attend to his own duties as Prince of Dragonstone. He supposed he should've been a better leader to those on Dragonstone whilst he was in charge of it, and to his own family on it, instead of wandering off the island at the dawn of the new year to do some exploring and such, like he did do unfortunately.

She smirked at him, before she got off him with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, given how she's been on top of him for quite sometime, and her dress was quite thick. He smirked at her, if not a bit half-heartedly, as he stayed sitting on the chair. He wanted to overlook out the window, at all the guests arriving. There wasn't very many, for she was only of a small House and his third wife besides, but there was enough as it. He sighed, thinking how dull and boring the whole ordeal would be, and how he just wanted to get it over with, before he crowned her with the crown he had custom made for her. He was going to coronate her like he did with Lyanna, even though this time he wouldn't be feeling guilty as he gave her his mother's crown, a small, round golden thing with emeralds and rubies attached to it, as a wedding gift of sorts. No, this time, he'd crown her with something that no other Queen had - it was a delicate, dainty, golden thing with emerald sea horses attached to it, like Queen Daenara's own crownlet to which he took heavy inspiration from. It was unfortunate that It had been lost over the centuries, begotten by the Blackfyres themselves when they took a hold of the sword Blackfyre. Aegon IV had no shortage of bad decision making, but him giving Daemon Daerana's crownlet was a right bloody insult there. He wondered what Daemon did with his grandmother's crown - but he guessed he sold it like what that dim-witted Rhaenyra did to Jahaerys I the Councillor's own crown. He'd believe so, given how only tiny, minor houses supported the Blackfyres rather dubious claim to the Iron Throne, and besides, if Daemon didn't, than surely one of the his sons did, given that they were in exile, and they had no concept on what a thing of power was and how it could support their cause anyhow.

"Everyone says that about me." Her eyes twinkled upon hearing of the compliment she was bestowed upon by himself.

"Then they be true, you're truly a wonderful specimen of a woman. You'd make a fine mother, and a even finer wife." He had high hopes for this one, even despite her own short-comings, she is such wonderfully alluring woman, despite her youth. She had one of the finest features he believes he'd ever had on a wife, from her robust healthiness, like Lyanna, to her valyrian features, she was absolutely prefect looking in his eyes.

"Thank you my King. I hope to be everything you want in a wife and Queen-Consort, and a mother as well, to your offspring my King." She bowed her head gently. He could hear the sounds of people outside, working on the next wedding in Baelor's grand cathedral. It was the sounds of duty he had heard and still he didn't know if he could love Alysanne, he had tried loving Elia, loving Lyanna, despite that not being his true intent for her, and they all failed to produce the thing he wanted in the end; a third head. If she did indeed produce a girl, even at the expense of her own death, he'd like to think that unlike Lyanna's rather uncermonal grave, that he'd like someday when he died, that their ashes would be spread together somewhere in the world, like how his mother and father's ashes were in the Sept of Baelor. Even though he considered that to be a rather poor choice now to allow that mixing to commence. His father was an insane mad man whom held no love for his mother, even as ever dutiful as she was, and their relationship wasn't built on the backs of happiness, no it was constructed rather hastily by a wood witch that had told Jahaerys, his grandfather, that the line of Aerys and Rhaella would produce the Prince that was Promised. Although he felt as though his entire childhood was dictated off of this farce belief made by King Jahaerys I and his sister-wife Queen Shaena, instead of an unburning hatred for it given what the bloody prophecy did to his childhood, it had instead led him down this road of being deeply devoted to it. Afterall, he was born for It - born to be the father of the Prince that was Promsed, he just knew it.

The wedding was finished, as was the bedding, both of which had exhausted him to no end. The wedding, the woman wore a long, blue-colored dress with a gentle blue sea dragons attached to her puffy white vail. It was a beautiful gown, which fit her fairly well, and it had a gentle blue-coloured corset attached to her curvy waist. Her eyes danced throughout the entire boring affair, watching him as he dutifully read his vows. He thought of her as Elia throughout the entire event, with her lovely Dornish accent, and her raven-coloured eyes dancing like flames as he undid the vail surrounding her thin, creamy-coloured face which back than, held so much enthusiasm in her eyes, and her voice sounded thrilled too. She was so beautiful throughout the entire thing, despite her initial weakness, she danced with him, did the bedding without as much as single complaint, was a proper woman all in all. But now it was this tiny little thing he was wed too, with her golden-sliver locks and her bright amethyst coloured eyes, that just for a moment, reminded him of Daenerys in her entirety.

"I don't think I saw Aemon smile once at our wedding, before Aegon told him he was a cry baby over it." Rhaegar had to consider his son's reaction to it, Aegon responded maturely. Aegon had always seemed older than his years, at least to Rhaegar he did. Aemon, well, he acted like a boy about it, with him saying that the woman was stealing his mother's spot over and over again, something that upset Alysanne. She had not meant to usurp Lyanna's title upon marrying him and she hadn't for Lyanna Stark had been dead and buried under Baelor's Holy Sept when she was declared queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Besides, she hadn't even wearing Lyanna's crown upon her sliver-gold curls at her coronation, no, she had been coronated with the custom made Queen Consort crownlet he had custom created for her, just to make sure everything was proper and set in stone. He also had also conducted the coronation for the new Queen Consort himself, even though like him, the High Septon had placed the crown upon Alysanne's head to make sure that everyone knew the Faith approved of the pairing; Lyanna's coronation had gone rather differently, In that the High Septon had refused to coronate Lyanna, thus forcing him to improvise by forcing himself to put the crown on Lyanna's head. It was a bold tactic no doubt, but he far preferred using the High Septon's way, it made them look more legitimate as Queen Consorts, which was important when dealingith nobles.

cry-baby"I love your little Aegon so much, he's such a caring boy. He defended me against Aemon several occasions, you know, and I don't hate little Aemon either, but he does seems like he's dealing with his mother's death rather poorly if you ask me." Alysanne responded dreamily, as she lay nude under him on the consummation bed - of which had once been his fathers, mind you, but he had cleaned it of it's fifth upon inheriting it. He had his hand on her buttock, which she didn't mind.

She was of an extremely good material to bed, he had to admit, for he had bedded her several times already without feeling any sort tiredness over it, and it had felt somewhat satisfying too, to bed her. He'd think he'd bed her for about a month at this point, mostly for his own satisfaction and partly to make sure that his seed had set in her womb, for she really was the best sort for bedding; warm and smooth skinned, hot and just waiting his touch below there, which was honestly wow amazing, for none of his other wives had been that happy to consummate their marriages with him, not even Lyanna, although she had been very close to getting this level of ready the first time around at least. He had all that to say about bedding her and more, given she was that really satisfactory in the bed, and that was a jolly great thing, indeed. He couldn't wait to touch her stomach when it was full of a babe, to wait to hear the heart-beat of another human being that was their, as it grew like a tiny seed inside of her womb, to even see her vomiting due to morning sickness, to all the nasty parts, to all of the exciting parts of it, like seeing the baby being born, and it's first cries; he'd know, he's dealt with two woman of went through the all three stages of pregnancy already. He was much more prepared with her than the other two woman - both as a sexual partner and as a husband In general. He swore he wouldn't forsaken his wedding bed and vows to Alysanne to the red witch anymore.

He smirked at her, "Most likely, but that doesn't excuse the inexcusable, my dearest,." He sighed, before staring at the her arse; it was a soft, milky white little thing like the rest of her, but despite that it was a relatively tiny and bouncy to the touch arse. He'd touched his other's wives arses before, but none had been this pleasant to touch before; and besides, she wasn't objecting to letting him do this. But maybe that was because he was King, and she was his little wife, his third little new wife, and besides, she was so very youthful. He was admiring her stomach, her lack of baby bumps, or bruises from giving birth, or anything that said that she was a mother, as he took to admiring her hips, which was smooth sailing. He also knew that she'd never had any sex besides for just a few hours ago when he took her maidenhood - which was telling, given the condition of the bedsheets they laid upon; and how he remembered the blood of her maidenhood on his cock from them doing the act on these very bed-covers. Elia was a maiden, Lyanna also - Rhaegar liked his wives to be proper maidens when he took them for the first time. To feel their maiden blood on his cock was a deeply thrilling thing to experience, If he were to be blunt.

"Oh I know." She flashed her pearly white teeth at him. "I don't think what he did was inexcusable, he's.. only elven years old, what else could you expect out of a child that age anyhow?"

"You'll see." He grabbed it, inside of just resting his hand on her arse, which made her gasp and put a hand on her backside. He chuckled at her, before leaning in to kiss her on the mouth. He wasn't quite done with her just yet...

 _my own personal notes:_

 _If your outraged go back to read the other page._


	9. Aemon II and Jon Con

Jon Connington,

It had been two years since Lyanna's death, one year since Rhaegar's third and presumably last marriage to Alysanne, and Tywin Lannister had arrived at court, to offer himself up as Rhaegar's Master of Coin, a suggestion which Rhaegar had accepted. In the meantime, Rhaegar has to deal with the fact that his third wife might be infertile. He also deals with the Warden of the North's rather staunch position against him for the taxation imposed, and brings out Bran 'Brandon' Stark (Rhaegar's hostage from House Stark after Benjen left for the wall) to help him deal with the Warden of the North. As for the Stormlands, the Marchers had been getting gold to help pay off their debts from Casterly Rock even though Rhaegar had told Tywin not to do this, but the Warden of the West had ignored his request and did it anyhow. It was this imprudence that angered Rhaegar into sending him off to deal with Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lady Cersei Lannister of Storm's End.

The two were sitting outside of his castle, with some fine vintage wine fresh from the fields of the Reach in hand, and some beautiful waitresses were around them, serving them warm, cooked seafood fresh from Ship's Breaker bay. He enjoyed it what they gave to him to eat for what it was worth, it was some mild salmon, even though he could taste that someone had not properly boned it, for one of the bits he took had some tiny white bones in it. He didn't care though. They were enjoying the view of the relatively calm - an extreme rarity - waters of Ships Beakers bay. Sometimes they even got massive whirlpools popping nearby, or storm's so fierce, that it could supposedly knock down an entire castle, as it swirled it's grasp around the castle's ground. But today was apparently special to the bay, for it was completely calm and sincere above the surface of the bay's usually chaotic waters, a perfect day for fishing and surfing, he'd think. However, those girls kept on getting in his view, as they laughed girlishly and flirtatiously - Stannis didn't seem to want to watch them either, but they were his wives ladies, so he was forced to deal with them. He felt pity for Stannis in this regard.

"I've come here to demand you stop getting payments from Casterly Rock to pay off the King's debt." Jon didn't want to seem weak to Lord Stannis, of whom stood brooding over him with those sharp blue eyes of his. That frown, that everything, Jon thought the man wasn't very attractive to look at - he was bald, well-shaved, and had this tangible frown seemly stuck to his face, and not to mention, he was twice Jon's height. Usually, he'd think that was an attractive trait - even disregarding that Rhaegar was about his own height - in a man, but to Stannis, his large, almost huckling figure made him look like an imposing figure. He also was donned in simple raven/gold coloured suit, with tiny gold buttons and everything, and he carried a sword strapped to his belt buckle, like a wise man. He always carried swords around himself, mostly out of prudence. It was paramount that he would be able to defend himself, and besides, it was practical.

"No. You tell the King that his debts are bankrupting our region to the point where I can no longer pay my own farmers, and I have to put down rebellion after rebellion in my region as a result of that." The man had a booming voice for sure, like the rest of him. Jon noted he was fisting his fists so hard that they appeared to be a white colour almost, wa he angry? But alas, Jon had a solution for his former liege Lord to consider, and he knew that he wouldn't like it.

"Have you forgotten about Renly? He's a... visitor in King's Landing and it would be a real shame if he got hurt, you know..." Jon smiled. If he didn't cooperate with Rhaegar's demands, Renly could seriously be hurt, as in, they might mame him. Rhaegar was considering making Ilyn Payne, the mute executioner, present him with a trophy of one of Renly's limbs, if he didn't consider not taking Casterly Rock's offer. The debt was for the Stormlands to pay considering what they did in the war, not for the good intentioned Tywin Lannister too despite him clearly wanting too.

He noted how he let go of his hands slightly before looking downwards. "Your asking me to choice between my duty as a family man and my duties as the Lord of Storm's End... Cersei said that the King wouldn't care if we did this, if we got payments from Casterly Rock, my lady wives house, that we were doing nobody any harm..." He sighed, putting his hands back behind himself nervously.

"Do it for Steffon, do it for Renly, I would take the King's offer If I were you, Lord of Storm's End." He replied, staring into those blue eyes of his. He had met Steffon, his only son and heir - he was currently in Casterly Rock, Jon knew. He had personally visited Casterly Rock, to meet with the imprudent Lion Lord, of whom seemed less than inspired to assist him, even with his wife being a Hightower, a great house, he had refused the offer sent forth by the King claiming that if he couldn't pay the debts of his good son, the Lord of the Storm's End, than the Crown would lose one of it's source of incomes from the Westerlands. That was without doubt a threat, but the Warden of the West was a dangerous man, and when he threatened someone, usually he'd go through with it. The Rains of Castamere was certainty proof of the audacity the Warden of the West possessed, it would be dangerous to underestimate him. The King knew it too, give how he treated the former hand with a level of reverence whenever he came around to do his duties as Master of Coin in King's Landing.

"Okay... I'll consider it for Renly's sakes." He sounded rather detached, defeated even, which he couldn't blame him for. He stood up, "Please go my Lordly hand, I need to think about this. Alone..." He waved the girls away with the touch of his hand, before standing off of his raven-colored chair. He himself sat on a stump of an old tree that the Baratheons cut down at some point. He sighed, before getting up as well. He didn't know why the King didn't just send a raven for this all honesty, but he supposed it would be more intimidating just to send him down here to do it. Besides, if the Warden of the West wouldn't corporate via a bloody bird sent by the King and a personal visit from himself, than he doubted that his good son would do something similar. Personally, he believed Lord Hoster Tully was Lord Tywin's little pet, considering he helped to pay off the Riverman's debt and not to mention, his son and heir was married to his daughter Lysa. Besides, It was obvious, Hoster did lots for Lord Tywin, including taking in Lord Loren Lannister - the third child of Jaime Lannister and his wife, Lysa Tully, as a fosterling, and such. Jon believed Hoster was desperate for gold, in all honesty.

"Alright, I hope you make the right choice, Lord Stannis. Tis is your brother's limbs on the line here after all." He smiled at the Lord, which caused Stannis to shatter his teeth. He could even hear it from it from now, that undeniable crunching sounds. He had this repute for this habit of crunching his teeth even though he supposed Cersei Lannister his lady wife had tried stopping this habit which made Jon happy that he was blatantly irritating Lord Stannis - he whom he believed should've been sent to the Wall alongside Ned Stark, for all the good they did for Rhaegar in their long leisurely term as Lord Paramounts - but alas, the time for punishing them like that was too far and in-between as it had been nearly ten years since Robert's Rebellion and besides, the Lord Paramount's within their respective region would heavily protest such an unlawful removal. It was a shame, Jon supposed, they'd be more helpful at the wall than they were currently being right now..

"I do hope your month long journey to King's Landing is worth it, my Lord Hand. " He muttered, which Jon could hear even as far away as it was. _It will be._ He'd think - it had taken him nearly three-four months to get to Casterly Rock on a back of a horse and it also had been worth it, even if Lord Tywin had refused him in the end. But anyhow, the fact that Stannis sounded so condescending in his statement made Jon smile even larger.

Aemon,

In the last year since Rhaegar married Alysann; she had slowly gotten his respect; it was hard, but Aegon encouraged him to do so, for the sakes of the family. It was easy for him, because he didn't know his own mother and had a lukewarm relationship with Lyanna whilst she still lived. He had no issues with Lyanna dying - because he wasn't there, he never even saw Lyanna's body, he couldn't possibly know what it felt like to lose a loved one. He was baby when Aerys toasted his mum and sister, Aegon knew nothing of how painful it was to lose someone he loved above all else - he had no right to judge Aemon for mourning his mother, even after a year after her death, for he'd never see her warm smile again. But regardless of Aegon's wishes on the matter, he hadn't gotten along with Alysanne just because Aegon had told him too, it was because he felt bad for her after father basically threw her away after finding out that she was basically baren even though the Maester said that she was perfectly fertile. He felt so bad for her, considering he could hear her crying in her room, that he went out of his way to comfort her, in his own small ways. Aegon though, he went back to Dorne - he felt like it was bad time to go back to the North, considering Ned Stark didn't seem to want to welcome him after the King threatened to cut his second son into pieces before sending those said pieces back to his father. He didn't blame Ned for not wanting anything more to do with the Targaryens after that...

"Alysanne, you're gonna have a baby..." Aemon stared up at her, as the two walked the halls of King's Landing. She was smiling a strain smile, as people surrounded them and she had to keep up an appearance, but he felt bad for her. The King refused to sleep with her, and he thought of his mother again - he was reminded of her whenever he did this and it was making him very angry at his father for treating her so. She didn't deserve it, considering she was so pretty and youthful, like his mum once was, before his father made her some boring housewife. But he thought it was a stupid thing to even try with Rhaegar about Alysanne's condition, where she wore more grey and black colors, not her once former bright cheery blue coloured outfits that she wore at the start of his reign, and not to mention she looked paler and skinner to him than before. He was worried about her. "Someday, I swear of it... That way papa will be happy with you!" He smiled cheekly, hoping to make Alysanne smile, which she didn't. It felt like watching mummy again, struggling with one dead baby after another..

"I hope so... too.." She sounded full of melonachy, but not in the way father usually was, like she was genuinely sad, not the suede sad that Rhaegar was. Like how mum was whenever she had a miscarriage - she had cried about it too. But in her case, she had yet to even have a miscarriage, less a pregnancy at all, which lead people - more like Rhaegar, to declare her baron, which was having it's effects on the Queen's dressing. For one, she only wore dour coloured cloth, not the happy, springy blue clothing she had previously wore beforehand, which lead him to feel great pity for her. She also was stressing, for she had more stress marks on her youthful face than before, but he saw no signs of any damage on her, which was good. At least Rhaegar wasn't hurting her like he did his mother.. at least for now...

"You sound like my mummy, whenever she had a miscarriage or somethin'." He sighed, but she hadn't gotten pregnant yet so it was probably even worse. He felt bad for her, with her dour expression. "She was always depressed when she lost another baby; that she always wanted to cuddle with me..." He sighed, feeling like he wanted to cry remembering those long lost times. She hugged him, embraced him in his arms, called him her eternal sweetheart, as she kissed his head and such. He remembered her soft skin, her sad grey eyes staring at him with warmth, her vanilla smelling... all of it was gone forevermore. But he could make due with those sad deep purple eyes of her's now, couldn't she? The smell of salt-water and sugar, instead of Lyanna's stale vanilla flavour, he could deal with that, if only to make something with her for the sakes of his dead mother.. She'd approve of this, right? Him helping the new Queen instead of hindering her, like he had been doing previously...

She kind of looked down at her feet gently. "I... We cannot discuss this in public, Prince Aemon." She sighed, putting her head down. He believed that she didn't want to seem weak in the public's image, something he couldn't blame her for. She was still a new Queen and besides, she needed to secure her reputation, even though most high lords put their chins up upon seeing her. Lord Stannis had a extremely condescending reaction upon seeing her, which involved him warning Rhaegar he wouldn't take the next one upon his death, something that had made father laugh.

"I'm sorry if papa angry with you." His mother had been miserable in her later years, not like the happy, boisterous woman she was once was. His father had been most angry with her after those stillbirths..

She didn't look into his eyes as she walked off. "I really hope he doesn't _hurt_ you or something..." His mum had told him how father hurt her so - he raped her, slapped her, told her she was good for nothing. Aegon knew nothing of this - even though he should've told Aegon ages ago, but those words fell off his tongue when he realised that Rhaegar was riding him because he was the supposed Prince that was Promised, he knew he should've told him, but it would've added on to the stress Aegon had felt when Rhaegar had propped him to up to be something he could not even possibly be. He regretted it now, not saying anything to Aegon, but what was done was done. However, there were other he could tell, like Jon Connington and such, but alas, hand Jon Connington. even though paranoid of the Red Witch, was a loyalist of Rhaegar's.. and Aemon doubted the Lord would believe him if he told him the truth of the matter. Besides, there was seemly nothing he could say to get people In the court against Rhaegar for what he did to his mother, for they were all loyalists of Rhaegar's and wouldn't believe the words of a supposed bastard, as even some of his own loyalists said about him, and besides, he was a child, children don't know what their talking about, at least according to adults. They'd want evidence of it anyhow and he had none to offer them, besides for his word, and words were wind, so he had no evidence of Rhaegar's wrongdoings, now that Lyanna was dead. That was the greatest folly of them all, in his opinion.

As for Rhaegar himself, well, Aemon did directly confront him about this, but he dismissed it and said that Lyanna's statements were farce and that he shouldn't believe whatever she said. But she seemed so genuine and not to mention, he actually showed her evidence, of the deep marks on her person. On her arms, on her legs, he could see them even though she hid them from the rest of the world. He wondered why she didn't show anyone these scars and bruises, but she said it was because Rhaegar would likely murder her if she showed them to the rest of the world, so thus she hid him. He wondered why she showed him them, but she said it was because she loved him and trusted he wouldn't tell Rhaegar, but... than he couldn't help himself but to do so, because he was angry at Rhaegar for doing so. He wondered if Lyanna got beaten severely that day or something, for his betrayal of her, which was a discomforting though within itself. He didn't want to image that happening to her, his sweet mother...It would make him cry most likely.


	10. Rhaegar IV and Aegon III

Aegon,

Honestly, he considered Aemon an obligation. An obligation he had to take care, given that Rhaegar wouldn't - he was too busy producing bastards and bankrupting High Lords to care about the two of them. He left Aegon to deal with Dorne diplomatically, left Aemon to flounder In court virtually alone with people thinking he was a bastard - which was a farce in itself, Aemon wasn't a bastard. But moving sharply along, Aegon believed it was only a matter of time that'd they'd be overthrown from the Iron Throne and such with what his father was currently doing to the High Lords. He believed this because of several concerning things that were currently running amuck in the Kingdoms; it was said that the Marcher Lords were getting ready to rebel against Stannis Baratheon, their liege lord, and the North was getting restless with the taxation, not exactly a sign of good things to come, and not to mention, their only _allies_ \- the Reach - if one could even call them that, had an uncertain loyalty which concerned Aegon somewhat _I wish I could break my enthronement to Daenerys to instead go after Margaery Tyrell..._ He thought warily, at the prospect of losing the Iron Throne in preference to his younger brother, Aemon wasn't something Aegon wasn't particularly keen on, because Aemon had dirt on his own repute due to his own mothers rather poor reputation, which earned her the title of Whore Queen and other such unkind names; not to mention, Aegon wasn't sure if Aemon could be survive being King without people overthrowing him in angrier due to the sins of his parents, if he ever disinherited by Rhaegar. Aegon couldn't allow that to happen, no, it would result in the death of the Targaryen dynasty, and so he had to play by Rhaegar's rules even though they angered him.

"The Kingdoms are going to rebel soon enough, uncle. I'm worried - I speak to my father about this and he refuses to listen to me; we cannot continue down this road with Lord Stark and co. The Westerlands _would_ destroy us in battle, besides, and they've got friends in the Starks, the Baratheons and the Tully's, the very Houses my father is bankrupting." He sighed, as he talked to Doran. The man was indifferent about this - even though he seemed to be friendly-lite with Lord Baratheon as of late, it appeared to him at least, that Doran at least pitted the Lord's current situation. He wasn't sure if it was enough to make Doran go full on rebel whenever Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon had enough of their current predicaments and rebelled against the Iron Throne. He though whenever, because he believed it was only but a matter of time before they did so against Rhaegar when enough was enough.

"Yes, I know. I pity Lord Baratheon in this, at the very least. The man looked so tired when I last saw him, when he was proposing his son, Steffon, to my daughter Arianne - a request I had refused, given I think Rhaegar's has something out for the man and I do not wish Rhaegar's ire upon Dorne." Aegon actually thought that Rhaegar was that dumb, to go threaten Dorne via associations, even though the Martells had been loyalists during Robert's Rebellion - he had no care for whom he threatened to get his petty revenge on the down-trodden Starks and the Baratheons, he himself pitied them, but speaking out against the King was a bad idea In general. His father said that he often pulled the tongues of those at court whom disagreed with him, and Aegon didn't think he was joking about that, Rhaegar may have been more mentally sound than Aerys, his father and Aegon's own grandsire, but that did not mean he wasn't prone to bouts of cruelty (even though Rhaegar didn't burn people) in his own time. He also once told Aegon that his mother's and sister's deaths were all in the process of being his so-called Prince that was Promised - he was so kind that way, making light of familiar deaths, which angried him so much, that he begun shouting at him about the nature of his own birth, which Rhaegar had shrugged off. His father had no shame in being cruel towards either himself or Aemon - in Aemon's case, he just devalued him as a person, it was obvious to see, he simply didn't care about Aemon, his own second son, due him not his Prince that was Promised - even though Maester Aemon, the old Maester at the Wall, had reportedly told the King his predictions about whom the identity of said mythical Prince might be off, he didn't care.

He nodded, "When the hammer falls, It'll be Rhaegar's own doing." The hammer being Lord Tywin Lannister revolting against them alongside the Riverlands and the North - he wasn't too sure about Dorne though, although Aegon hoped it nought. He didn't want his family getting involved in such affairs, they've been through hardships with the Crown as it was, he'd think to himself.

"Child, do you want to be King? Do you want the responsibility of cleaning up the messes of your father, your grandfather, and your great-grandfather? Are you sure your strong enough to deal with them? No? Than I wouldn't want that so-called hammer to fall if I were you for, no offense my Prince, but your family's repute as low as it's ever been in the Kingdom, even worse than it was with Aegon IV and the whole Blackfyre mess." Doran made a good point - Aegon didn't know if he were ready to be King yet, given that he was sure that the Baratheons and the Starks wouldn't like him one bit when he came into power and he had to clean up after Rhaegar and the Mad King. He felt like that was a most monument task to have and truthfully, he didn't know if he'd be strong enough to handle it, if everything came to heed and Rhaegar was deposed of, leaving himself to be King.

He sighed, "No Doran. I don't think.. I'd be strong enough to make up for all the deeds my predecessors did to limit our family's power within the Kingdoms. _I_ do wonder if they, the Lord Paramounts that my father has targeted, would believe me when I say that we have truly changed our ways." It was a miserable sort of feeling that Aegon couldn't quite control - it was utter and pure helpless and he truly hated the feeling. Doran put a hand on his shoulder with a small smile. The two were sitting on a bench in the Sunspear, their winter-seat, they went to their shanty castle seat in the middle of the summer, due to Sunspear, the castle, being unbearable to live in the midst of a hot Dornish summer, and also because they followed their people around in that shantily made castle of there's as they went from one watering hole to the next.

"Yes, your family does appear have a problem with that, my boy. But I don't think it's.. your fault that your father partook in an unfortunate tradition started by Prince Duncan." He actually believed what Rhaegar did to a far worse thing than what the Prince of Dragonflies did. The Prince of Dragonflies was a dumbass in Aegon's opinion, as he ran away and married an illiterate peasant girl to cause a war over his marriage to her in deference to the wishes of Aegon V and the entire Kingdom. Aegon didn't believe any peasant girl was worth causing a war over, much less marrying; he also believed that Duncan Targaryen had very low standards in woman, to choose a peasant over a formidable Baratheon woman, but alas, what was done was done. But Rhaegar, he was worse in every way imaginable in comparison to Elia Martell, Elia was an innocent woman and his legal wife besides; not to mention, he also left to her to the poisonous court of Aerys II. It was said that his grandfather called her a Dornish whore and hit her from time to time like he did with Rhaella, even though his great uncle had clearly objected to it. But kind of talk in regards to his mother, even though he had never met her, made him very, very angry feeling indeed...

"It's all because of that prophecy of his. It's because my mother was infertile and couldn't give him the third head he required - I hate _hate_ that prophecy of his, because all it causes is pain and death for everyone involved. Plus, the Maesters say that prophecies are half-baked truths, half-baked truths that make things worse for everyone. I tend to believe that too, that prophecies are more trouble than there worth when people like my father try to force such things on people, instead of letting it happen naturally of its own accord." Aegon had a tendency to get a little passionate about this topic. His brother didn't care one way or another for prophecies and such, Rhaegar though, he threatened to exile him if he didn't change his opinion on this, which lead to him hating it all the more.

Doran nodded, as he took a sip out of his iced tea. They were watching Doran's court fool, a Braavosi by the name of Periwinkle, for he had periwinkle bluish-purplish colored eyes, long raven-coloured hair, and a pink/purple tie dyed outfit, along with wearing a bright neon pink coloured cap. He was singing the song _the Dornishman's wife_ with his little golden-coloured flute he carried in his rubbery, thick hands, as he danced around them. Aegon was mildly amused at most, as he sung in his high pitched voice - sometimes, it was so high, that Aegon could've sworn he could've pretended to be a girl with that kind of voice he possessed, but alas, he was nothing more than a Jester Doran had somehow come across. So there. He also was a fairly short but robust-looking man too, Aegon noted.

"Be careful child, Varys has his little birds in Sunspear as well." He sighed. He was right, the spymaster was everywhere these days, including in the Citadel itself, rumours said. Aegon had a tendency to believe those rumors for the Spymaster really was that inapplicable In his craftiness, and had that much spies with him as well, indeed, it was remarkable what Rhaegar did when he learnt of such things. For example, Varys helped to boot out Prycelle as Maester of the courts after his allegiance to the Lannister's was made clear, and was promptly replaced by a no-named Tyrell lackey - but Pycelle's fate was left rather unknown afterwords, for word said that he was never seen again after he was kicked from his comfortable position as Grand Maester.

"Yes and they shall tell my father what he already knows." Aegon shrugged.

"I would assume he wouldn't be happy that you were telling me these things and that's a dangerous thing, child. The King is not to be trifled with, you should know this, so please do be careful with your words." The Prince sighed. He was right, but Aegon didn't feel as though he could talk to anyone without Varys spying on him. It was sort of futile, given Varys's small birds, as he liked to call the mute children he sent aspying across the Seven Kingdoms, were everywhere. Aegon sighed indifferently, although he wasn't scared of anything happening to them as a result of this conversation. But it was always nice to be reminded that Rhaegar had no trust neither his own heir or his heir's extended family.

He nodded - it was true, it was treachery by Rhaegar's standards to speak ill about his Grace within the Kingdoms itself. He put his head down, which caused his sliver-gold locks to get in his face. He snorted, feeling inconvenienced by that little fact - but at least Rhaegar wasn't trying to murder him, no, he was off trying to punish him. It was utterly infuriating in his humble opinion, because all he wanted was to do good for House Targaryen, which Rhaegar was off preventing and even detracting him from doing so. It was a wonder the Kingdoms hadn't rebelled at this point, a bloody blessing, but Aegon suspected it had to do with Rhaegar treating his current allies with a great deal of respect and he was trying to win back Dorne onto his side. Time would tell if that was correct or nought, but Aegon would beg for their assistance regardless though - Aegon would do just about anything to save his House from the impending doom he could feel coming...

Rhaegar,

"I will not be threatened by you, Lord Tywin Lannister, you may have been my father's hand, but you are nought to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own realm." This insipid little man came here just to lecture him about the taxation on the Stormlands. However, there was some good news - his wife had gotten pregnant as of late, with a full stomach too, and he was thrilled to say in the least, considering he could feel the healthy kicking of the developing babe in her womb. But, there was also a problem, he had also got Melisandre pregnant at a later date, and she was noticeably pregnant. He sighed, people were gonna think he was Aegon the Fourth once again, but he didn't care about the title "Unworthy" though, even though sooner or later, people were going to call him the Unworthy. He supposed he deserved it, for his many sins, but he mostly didn't sleep with woman out of pleasure, like what Aegon IV did.

"I can tell you right here that if you don't change it, than the Stormlands will go into open rebellion. I know, because my daughter tells me these things. Sometimes, I wonder why you decided to waste my time with that marriage." He frowned - he was right about one thing at least, Rhaegar had indeed, strongly encouraged the union between House Baratheon and House Lannister at Lord Tywin's insistence. For if his daughter couldn't be Queen, than at the very least she'd be in a position of power, and besides, Lord Stannis was a High Lord of House Baratheon - the Warden of the West had believed it to be a naturally good pairing, so he had complied with the Warden's wishes on the matter. As did the Lord of Storm's End, considering that was one their agreements which had established him as Lord Paramount.

"Humph and why does that matter to me, Tywin?" They've defeated the Baratheon's two times previously, a third time wouldn't hurt either. No, truthfully, it would teach them the truth of whom was their better once and for all, and he'd gladly display Lord Stannis's bronzed head on his mantel to look at from time to time, as a reminder to himself that the other Houses, like House Stark, could not face off against the Iron Throne and ever hope to win. But than again Balon Greyjoy's dullard rebellion should've proved them might of the Crown, and what it could potentially do to them.

"It matters to me because my daughter is Lord Stannis Baratheon's wife, as you know, and because of you, she had to sell her entire set of fine jewellery and other finery in order to make sure that their bloody castle didn't fall into a ravine. That's an issue, King Rhaegar, fix it." Rhaegar didn't want to, House Baratheon had caused enough trouble and they deserved what was happening to them. Lyanna would have objected to what he was doing for this House, as she did for House Stark's own issues, but the woman was dead, so he didn't care what Lyanna thought on it. House Stark and House Baratheon sat on a same boat for him - a bunch of traitors getting their dues, even if they hated it so, they wouldn't do anything against him.

"Ah, well it's their comeuppance for being traitors during Robert's Rebellion - I do however apologize for it affecting your _stunning_ daughter though, she doesn't deserve it." He still held the opinion that Cersei was the most beautiful lassie in the Seven Kingdoms, even after all of these years. It was also most unfortunate that Lord Stannis and Lady Cersie only ever had one offspring throughout their marriage - but it was also more unfortunate that he wasn't able to do anything with her, since she was so far away. So his beautiful Velyaron wife would have to do for now at least.

"You'll regret _it_ more when your own blood is split over this, if you even care about that. Your father didn't, considering he burnt your daughter and wife in these very halls, yet I wonder if you even cared about them." Rhaegar wondered if he was being threatened, as he stared at his King's Guards. So far Author wasn't do anything but staring at the bald-haired man, as he stared right at him. He didn't like the sounds of that.

"It wasn't my choice that they left for King's Landing, you know this as well as any other man. I left them on Dragonstone, until Aerys called for hostages to keep the Dornish inline whilst Robert's Rebellion was happening. It was not my fault that he had burned them now is it? Do not presume to threaten me Tywin. I did what you asked, and what's your response to me trying to appease you? Insolence." He had done almost everything Tywin had asked of him, besides for reducing the taxation of the Stormlands which was a very prominent request on his behest.

"Your treatment of your Lords shall lead to your downfall considering the way your own father handled the Starks. You know what happened there, I'd presume." _My father burnt the two Starks without trial which lead to the creation of Robert's Rebellion. Lyanna didn't know what happened to them at the Tower, and I didn't know until Elia informed of what happened post Trident._ He'd think. He never judged anyone without a trial, from the lowest peasant, to the highest lord, they all got the same treatment, although he had a tendency to let the nobleman off the hook though, for they had gold the lowly peasant did not possess.

"Hmph, I haven't burnt any of them nor their heirs. My treatment of them is perfectly just." He frowned at him.

"Your going to starve them to death, your Highness, is that really much better? A slow death vs a quick, but painful, one?" Tywin's questions were starting to deeply irritate him. This Master of Coin had no right to judge him, he wasn't king, he'd never had been King. Not even when he was off being his father's hand.

"I tire of your insistent questions, Lord Tywin. Be off now." He was tempted to threaten Tywin, but he didn't feel brave enough to do so, even despite being his Liege Lord. Really, Tywin was the source for most of his fundings and offending him, despite him being of a lower class than himself, the man still had enough clout to frighten Rhaegar, It didn't help that on top of shitting gold for him every once in awhile, Tywin could also amass an army that could potentially be strong enough to overthrow his levies in the Crowlands, if he so choice too. Not to mention, he had connections in other kingdoms, including the Stormlands, that would help him in this pretend scenario that Rhaegar was playing in his head.

Tywin nodded, although the look in his face was a harsh one indeed. Rhaegar sighed, as he sat on his cider-made chair. He start wondering exactly what he'd do if there was a new rebel incursion on the horizon as a result of Tywin's words. _I'd send Aegon, Daenerys and Aemon off to the free cities, kill Renly and Brandon, before sending their dead body parts back to their respective houses. I'd march my levies right to their frontdoors if need be, I'll remind them of what happened to that Squid Lord whom choice to rebel against my might. I killed him. I'd be more than happy to do the same to them, if need be._ He'd ponder on how those regions might respond to a new House replacement, if he had to kill all Starks and all Baratheons for their newest treachery. As for Viserys, he'd likely sit out the conflict in Dorne, that is if the Dornish didn't decide to rebel alongside with the Stormlanders and the Northmen. Rhaegar didn't trust Doran enough to believe he wouldn't join the other rebels in their treacherous fight against the Iron Throne due to Elia Martell, his sister. Everything was about Elia to Doran, which irritated him to a great extent. He sighed, feeling all the more paranoid about what could come.

After this, he'd be visiting Melisandre whom would put those ills to rest like a good woman should do. Besides, she could tell the future - a gift none other had, so he'd heed her advice.


End file.
